


Imprisoned

by awesome122316



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Harry and Draco get to have the childhood they didn't get to have before, Harry disguises himself, Harry has crazy fans, Harry is famous but doesn't want to be, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Lucius is abusive to Draco, M/M, Matchmaker Hermione, Narcissa is a good mother, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slighty crazy Draco, Voldemort isn't even in this one unlike my other two stories, although it has some dark thoughts, but it works - Freeform, it's cute and childish and it has a special place in my heart, nothing graphic but some cursing, the first drarry I ever wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 86,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15309141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesome122316/pseuds/awesome122316
Summary: Harry decides to disguise himself, with the help of Hermione, to avoid having to be famous all the time. He meets a boy, Cygnus, and falls in love, all the while feeling curious as to how Draco has acquired the bruises on his face and arms.





	1. Start Over

**Harry's POV:**

Sometimes, in life, there are those decisions we never want to make. I don't quite remember how it happened, but I got stuck in one of these predicaments. On one hand, I had, of course, saved the Wizarding world from the likes of Voldemort. I was famed for my deed, and on everyone's list of "most amazing people" and what not. The problem with all that: I absolutely hated it all. I just wanted to be a normal wizard. In my mind, the most perfect situation would be if everyone calmed down. Yes, they all knew who I was, and yes, I had saved them all, but they could kindly nod if they saw me, or simply smile and be on with their life.

Most people aren't like that, of course. If they see me, they come up to me, congratulating me, saying how wonderful it is to meet me, and yell out my name to the several others that might nearby, so they can do the same. Yes, I know it's  _absolutely fantastic_  what I've done, but I couldn't bloody care less about it.

On the other hand, did I really want to be someone else? Would I even be any good at trying to pull off something so permanent? I wasn't a very good actor. With my horrible skills, I would most likely be found out almost the moment I had put up the disguise. I didn't understand what Hermione had in store for me. I couldn't even begin to comprehend how much practice and concentration being another person would take…

"Alright, Harry. Everything is ready for you."

Hermione came out of her secret room that I hadn't been able to go in ever since we had arrived here ( _wherever here was_ ). She smiled in the most unnerving way, making me begin to question what I had gotten myself into once more. She held out her hand and offered me a ring. I looked at the ring in her hand a moment. It was nothing special looking, made of light wood carved into a ( _some-what_ ) circular shape, with no designs on it whatsoever.

"Hermione, if you planned on proposing to me, you should have got a better ring," I joked.

She chuckled. "No, this is how you're going to be someone else." At my questioning look, she continued, "You put it on, and it acts as Glamour, so you don't have to do anything. Here. Put it on."

She handed me the ring. It was light and felt no different than what I expected it to; wooden and textured. Judging its size for a moment, I figured it would fit best on my left index finger. It slipped coolly onto my finger, which I found unexpected. I watched as it changed from a rather plain sort of wood into a marvelous golden band with a deep grey, square stone in its center. Just as I was about to look back to Hermione, I saw as words emblazed themselves into the sides. I turned my finger around to read the words aloud.

" _The one and the only_." I looked back to Hermione, only to see a smile on her face. "I didn't know it would change. What do the words mean?"

She shook her head slightly. "Harry, you have to see yourself." She went back into her room to pull out a mirror and set it in my lap.

I kept my focus on her, a little frightened to see myself. Or, my new self, really.  _What if I look awful?_  I asked myself on instinct.  _Oh, who cares? Just as long as I don't have to deal with fame anymore…_  I took a deep breath and looked into the mirror.

It is the most peculiar feeling ever, to be someone else. Yes, I may have experienced it before, with polyjuice potion, but it's never something you get used to. Looking into the mirror and seeing a thinner face, with higher cheek bones, warm brown eyes, and slightly lighter hair cut so that it fell around my head in its length, but that didn't really seem all that long at all; it was odd. I touched my face with a pale hand that looked like it was mine to my eyes, but inside the mirror's world was peachy, yet firm and completely foreign. That was so very much unlike Polyjuice Potion. I looked down only to find that nothing about me seemed to have changed.  _That will only make it harder to be this new person._

"Harry," Hermione said softly, breaking the glass-like silence that I hadn't realized had enveloped the room. "This is just like you wanted. You don't have to be famous. You can just be yourself now. You can do anything you weren't able to before. You can actually be normal." She smiled and pried the mirror from my hands. I hadn't realized I had been holding on so tightly to it, but once I did, I calmed myself.

"So," I looked at the ring on my finger some more. "Is this charmed? Will anything affect it if someone gets suspicious?" It put my nerves on edge to already be thinking that someone could be suspicious, but I wanted to make sure this was fool-proof. Then again, this was Hermione's plan…

"No, it's not charmed. It's actually some sort of old magic I found in a book once. I figured you would want to use it someday, so I kept it at the back of my mind. Nothing can affect it. I can't even pull it off your finger, only you can."

I chuckled a bit. I should have known better than to think Hermione had left a flaw in this. "Alright. What's my new name going to be?"

"Good question. I was thinking something really hard to figure out, maybe some sort of code that would allow certain letters to…" she rambled on, talking fast and planning out some completely complicated compilation of possible puzzles. I just shook my head and laughed inside. It may have been 7, almost 8, years since I had known her, and I had seen her change so much as a person, but she was still the same old Hermione I had made friends with in first year. "And of course we are going to need to agree on your past in case anyone talks about it." She summoned a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill. "What do you want your new life to be like, Harry?"

"My life? I thought we were discussing names."

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Alright. How should we get a new name for you?"

Of all the ways to make a new name for someone, only one came to my mind, and wouldn't leave. Before I could stop the words from leaving my mouth, they left. "How about we make an anagram?"

There was a second of silence as we both remembered. There was almost a ringing in the air, and the room felt like a grey film had been put over it.

"Uh, we don't have to use my name." I said uneasily.

"What else would we use?"

I looked back to my ring. The black engraved words seemed so odd against the beautiful gold. "How about the words on my ring? ' _The one and the only'_?"

She nodded. "That will work. No one would ever suspect it." She pondered a moment more, biting her lip a little.

Why on earth would an anagram come to mind? Of all things,  _that_  was the first thing out of my mouth. It seems Tom Riddle was more engrained in my head than I once thought...

"Well," Hermione interrupted my thoughts. "I'll work on your name. Just get used to the idea overnight. Don't go out with the ring just yet. I'll send you an owl."

"Oh, okay." I pulled the ring off, watching it for a moment before realizing it wouldn't change back into the wood it had been before, and then slid it into my pocket. "I'll leave you to it then." Pulling my wand from my other pocket, I apparated just before the entrance to Hogwarts and walked to my room.

It was rather small, but that only made it more comforting. I still didn't care much for my living space to have large, ornate rooms. Being Harry Potter, the 18 year-old who had defeated Voldemort instead of going to his 7th year at school, even  _I_  had to pull some strings to continue to live here. What I didn't expect was getting my own room all to myself. I lay down, face-first, on my bed. The whole day was so much; too much to process. I needed a rest. I felt my eyelids droop, and my mind went fuzzy. Dreams of the past were most certainly not a thing of the past, though I wish they were.

* * *

**Cygnus Holloster's POV:**

Sitting suddenly up in bed, tears running down my face, almost hyperventilating, with aches in my chest; this was nothing new to my nightly ritual. I looked around, and once I realized where I was, my rational mind took control once more. I stop breathing for a second, to calm my heart rate and my breathing. When the moment came where my throat began to burn, I slowly inhaled and found everything was back to normal.

Where these nightmares came from wasn't a secret, of course. If anyone knew who I was, it would be so absolutely obvious. But my nature prevented anyone from really knowing me. That was the sad irony of my life. As much help that I may need, there was a certain pride that I had not to take it.

I looked down at my hands in the darkness of the room. I still had all my rings on.  _I must have forgotten to take them all off,_  I told myself, though I knew there had been no time to take them off before I softly cried myself to sleep. This house was worse than hell itself. I slipped them off one at a time, and placed them on the bedside table. Now that I was calm, I laid back down, staring at my rings. All the silver seemed to glow in the light coming from the half-moon shining through my window, but what stood out most of all were the dark words engraved on one. No matter how hard I thought to myself, nor how many times I read it, I could not get them to make sense.

Nevertheless, I read them over and over, thinking about what purpose they could have. Hours could have passed, or merely minutes. I didn't feel tired anymore, though I knew it wasn't too late into the night. The words were the only darkness near the glowing mound of jewelry.

_To be or not to be…_

I had never even heard of them before. They seemed so simple, yet so powerful in a sort of way. The more I thought about them, the vaguer their meaning became. A million possibilities ran through my mind, from actually reasonable to completely insane. I had learned over the years to accept them all, especially when magic was involved. Just because something sounded impossible, didn't exactly mean it was. Lots of things sound impossible; flying on brooms, magic wands, fathers beating their sons, unicorns. Obviously one sticks out of the list, considering the other three are a normal part of my life. Although it seems very impossible, unicorns do actually exist. I didn't believe it at first either.

I closed my eyes, not because I was tired, but because I didn't want to see those words anymore. They haunted me, worse than any ghost ever could, and I could almost swear the light of the moon seeped through my eyelids, forming the words on them ever so clearly.

 _To be or not to be…to be, or not to be…to_ be _or not to be_

It didn't matter how they sounded in my head, or where the emphasis lay, the words still made no sense. And yet, still, they were somehow my life in one phrase. What a wonder that such phrases exist, with such meaning to cover entire years of awful, horrid, torture-filled actions that were as much my own choosing as a snake chooses to have poisonous fangs. Yet nothing was as torturous as my own decisions. They followed no suit, and only made the other actions more difficult to maintain. A final straw, a forbidden love, the sad path to being disowned; it all added now to make my life Hell. And sadly, a part of me would never change that for anything in the entire world.

_To be…myself…or not to be...?_

I turned away from the ring onto my other side and opened my eyes to look out my window. I didn't want to face it anymore. Focusing on something else entirely, I noticed a tiny reflection of myself right below where the moon showed its face in my window. My once black hair was so pale now; I could hardly believe I was actually that other person. Another sigh of discontent, and then I decided to force myself to sleep. It would be a long process, but I was sure I would get there eventually.

* * *

**Hermione's POV:**

I bit my lip, hoping to myself that I hadn't missed a single detail in this plan. I often doubted myself, but never before had I done anything with so much risk to my best friends. I much preferred to put myself at risk for them, seeing as how it was simple instincts to want to save myself, but meddling in others' lives seemed so careless. If I missed something, or didn't thoroughly think something through, my friends would never be happy, and I would be to blame. But it had to work. There was no other option now.

I walked over to my work room where I had put my wand. It was getting late. Ron had told me to be back to the Burrow as soon as I could so I wouldn't miss dinner. Although I hadn't eaten since the early lunch I had today, food was the last thing on my mind. It seemed as if my plan was nothing but a piece of tinfoil put up against a tornado. Or course, I told myself again and again that nothing would go wrong. I had checked every possible twist and turn that could happen. It had to work. It would.

I apparated back to the Burrow. I could hear everyone inside chatting happily. It still hurt, seeing everyone being so happy as a family, and being happy with the time they have together. There was still an empty place in my heart, reserved for my parents, whom I could never see again. Of course, I loved all my friends like they were family, but they could never replace the people who raised me for eleven years before I even met them. And I gave up my parents to protect them, and that was a choice that I knew couldn't be undone easily.

"Hey, 'Mione. Where've you been?" Ron opened the door, releasing the light from the house and warming the dark of the outside in its glow. I didn't quite understand how, but Weasleys could always manage to do that.

"Sorry, Ron. I ran a little late with my plan." I walked up the steps and into the house. It seemed almost everyone was in bed except Ron, and George. I'd have said it was hard to believe they could be making so much noise just them two, but it actually wasn't hard to believe at all. "Harry couldn't make up his mind. I had to convince him."

"About that plan of yours…" George said as I entered the living room and sat on the couch with Ron at my side. He was leaning against the wall, seeming to be thinking. "Are you absolutely sure it's going to work?"

I gave Ron a look. "You weren't supposed to tell anyone."  _Unbelievable…_

He shrugged in the cute way he always did when he knew he was in trouble. "Sorry. I was thinking about it while I was waiting for you. I had no idea I was saying things out loud, and George heard me… I just couldn't tell him it was nothing."

"Don't worry. I won't tell." George smiled in a way that reminded me there used to be an identical one just next to it, with that same mischievous look to it, and a voice to match. I half smirked back, but the dark cloud that settled over me would take a moment to leave.

"Alright, then. Yes, I'm positive it's absolutely perfect. And if something goes wrong, I've already thought over how to fix it, and wrote everything down in case I happen to forget, which I highly doubt."

"What if Harry finds the paper?"

"Well considering that I keep it on my person at all times, he would have to be suspicious and somehow manage to get it from my pocket and know the spell to unravel the parchment. By the time he found it out, I'm sure that I would realize it was missing."

George nodded in response, his eyes looking past the floor in thought. "What if they find out after they get their happily ever after?"

"Then I remind them how happy they are and that I only helped push together what belonged."

"See, George? She's thought of everything already. I even asked her some questions. She had it all covered."

"And how exactly do you plan to do this?" George asked. "It seems impossible."

_So Ron didn't go into detail on my plan…_

"I have a sure way to get Harry and Draco together. I've recently made friends with him, and I know them both well enough to make sure nothing happens that would ruin anything." I smiled. "It will all work out."


	2. Jail and Sales

**Draco's POV:**

I hated my father.

Sure, I used to idolize him, no matter how awful he treated me. But now was different. I was actually making something out of the bum I called a life. I had actual friends ( _who oddly enough used to be many of the people I considered enemies_ ), and there had been enough people spread around that my father disowned me, so the general public doesn't absolutely despise me. After almost a year, I had actually pulled enough of my life together to find it decent enough to live. And of course, when it seemed the tide was turning and everything was looking up, my father decides to un-disown me, and let me move out of Zabini's place ( _honestly, his parents were lovely, and I felt more welcome there than I did in my previous home_ ) back into the manor.

My first thought as a Slytherin was  _Hmmmmm, peculiar. Since when does my father regret something? Hmmm-oh yeah! Never._  Then I got to thinking  _Well, it's obvious he wants something from me. What could I possible offer him?_  Of course, then I started telling myself  _Oh my poor father must have gone crazy. I was pretty sure he cared for me like a cat cares for dogs._

I pondered it for a while, by myself. ( _Yes, I told you I had real friends, but that doesn't mean I opened up to them like some ninny_ ). Really, I've been doing too much thinking lately. I honestly am starting to think I'm going insane. So of course, when I tell you I decided to move out of Zabini's comfortable house and back into the cold, awful-memory-filled manor and become a part of the Malfoy family again, that's my excuse; I'm insane.

And here I was, the third day back home, and I honestly missed my old life. Everything had gone back down the drain. I couldn't talk to my friends as much. We owled, but that was it. Rumors spread that I was back in the manor, and people hated me again. I was back into the hell hole where I spent my whole life. I left it all because I was given a promise. Just one.

" _Life will be different,"_  my father had told me.  _"I promise to be kinder to you. Please, son, just come home."_   In all truth, he was kinder. I hadn't seen him all three days, so there wasn't any chance for him to yell at me, or hit me, or give me nasty scowls.

" _Life is good,"_  I should say. Oh, absolutely not. I hated my father for ruining everything precious I've ever had.

It was day now. I was just sitting in a chair in my room, looking out the window. I was sure lunch would be soon, not that I was hungry as much as I wished to see my mother. I hadn't seen her either. I hated this house. How was it that three people could live inside a house, eat all three meals at the same time, and yet never even catch a glance of one another?

And of course, I've forgotten to tell you the worst part: I have conditions of living under a Malfoy roof once more.

  1. I had to stay at the manor at all times until further instruction is given ( _basically meaning that I'm stuck in this awful place unless my father decides that I'm decent enough to go in public once more as his son_ )
  2. I could not allow anyone to step inside the manor unless they had been invited by my parents ( _I'm not allowed to invite anyone over myself, not that I would curse my friends like that.)_
  3. Any ( _and I quote directly from my father's note_ ) "unnecessary truths of preference" ( _aka my sexuality_ ) shall remain unspoken of
  4. I would attend any and every business and/or ministry event that required my attendance  _and_ remain silent unless given specific things to say ( _acting as my father's puppet once more_ )



And I agreed to them all. And I gave up my comfortable, unrestrained life to live this awful repeat of the past with new added parameters. And with it all, gave up my sanity. Nothing like a wonderful Malfoy family reunion, minus the other two Malfoys, of course.

An owl flew to my window and tapped against the glass. I sighed and opened it. The brown speckled owl came inside and perched itself on the post of my bed. I untied the note from its leg and read it to myself.

 _Dear Draco,  
__I understand why you did it, but I still don't quite agree with it at all. While I would like to say that you should try to have a better relationship with your father, I don't believe for a moment that was what he had in mind when he invited you back as his son. And giving you rules? I have reason to believe that he may just be doing this to better his reputation (_ not that many think so highly of him nowadays _). I do hope he will let you leave soon. It's dreadfully boring without someone to talk to about interesting things, since Ron isn't really interested in those things (_ though he pretends to be sometimes _). Really, it feels like we're little kids, and your father grounded you. Come to think of it, it wasn't so long ago since we were actually kids. Anyway, I do wish you luck with your father. If you ever need someone to sneak you something, or someone, inside that manor, don't hesitate to ask me. I'm sure it must be dull there._

 _Sincerely,  
_ _Hermione_

Leave it to Hermione to offer to break rules for my sanity. Then again, it  _would_  be nice to get out of the house every once and a while...

 _Dear Hermione,  
I greatly appreciate your offer. As much as I would love for you to sneak so many things and people here to keep me from going insane (_ or, more insane than I already am _), I only ask for two things. The first would be a book. I could care less about what it's over, but I've read every book in my father's library at least two times through, and the topics are getting rather dull. The second, if you are able to do such a thing (_ which I'm sure with your cleverness you could pull off _), would be to have some sort of event in which I (_ and most certainly  _not_  my father _) am invited to and must attend. I would be forever grateful._

_As for your comment about just being kids not too long ago, I'm afraid that, unlike you, I never had much of a childhood. Yes, I used to be of a young age, and it was only so long ago, but I'm not sure I would classify that as being a child. And my father never grounded me, though I agree, that is very much how it feels._

_I expected such of him. He was never…shall we say…the brightest star in the sky. Nonetheless, it is very kind of him to pretend at least._

_Thank you for your luck. I may need it._

_Sincerely,  
Draco_

_P.S. If I may ask it of you, try to make the event sometime soon. I'm not sure if I can stand it here anymore. And it's only been three days._

I folded the letter and tied it to the foot of the owl. I expected it to fly away, but it merely sat on my bed post.

"Well? Are you going to deliver my message or am I going to have to throw you out that window?"

The owl tilted its head ( _as if to say "pushy much?"),_  but spread its wings and left out my window once more.

I stared a moment at my open window. It was so strange to have an opening to the outside world and yet still be trapped in this awful house. I could be free, maybe, if I was a bird, or even a bug. But of course, I chose to stay here, and so I would. I wouldn't exactly like it, but I would endure. After the moment had passed, I felt ridiculous to be thinking of leaving out my window. I closed it and thought to myself  _I can't leave out the window. I have more dignity than that. I'm a Malfoy._

That was shocking, even to me.

 _I really have gone mad, haven't I?_  I sat on my bed and put a hand to my forehead.  _I've gone mad…_

* * *

**Harry's POV:**

I looked out the open window of my room at Hogwarts, smiling. I hadn't specified anything in particular when I asked for a room, but Headmistress McGonagall obviously had me in mind when she picked the room. I could see the Quidditch field in the distance, where there was Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff game going on, then Hagrid's hut over to the side a bit, and there was a gorgeous sunset every night, of which I had full view of.

Hufflepuff scored a point, and I decided to catch up on the game later. My room was really pretty plain, but I liked it that way. And I had the largest bed I'd ever had in my entire life. It was a queen-size bed, and so I could curl up into a ball and do somersaults if I wanted to. The sheets were cotton and a deep gold since I was a Gryffindor, after all. I never lost a wink of sleep due to its comfy-ness ( _and if I did, that's only because I'm used to a small bed against the wall, and so I like to roll off the edge if I get too close_ ). I jumped onto it, letting it push me up into the air for a second, laughing at the childish feeling of it. It was nice to act however I wanted without anyone caring.

My face was in the comfy pillow when a sharp poke to my lower back startled me. I sat up and an owl squawked and fell onto the floor. It got up, shook its feathers, and gave me quite a grumpy look.

"Well, you shouldn't go poking people in the back when they don't expect it." The owl blinked its eyes and I sighed, realizing it was just trying to get my attention. "Alright, I apologize. Now, what did you bring?"

The owl ( _more or less_ ) hopped onto the bed and held out its foot. Untying the note, I saw it was from Hermione.

 _Dear Hyden Noah Lettone,  
I am very sorry to inform you that your request to attend the one year anniversary of the Dark Lord's demise has been rejected. There is only a select amount of people that may go as to keep Harry Potter's close friends and fans separate from enemies, journalists, and other dislikable figures. You seem to have no ties at all to Mr. Potter, and therefore have no qualifications to attend the May 2_ _nd_ _celebration, when Mr. Potter will be attending. However, you are very welcome to attend the May 3_ _rd_ _, 4_ _th_ _, and/or 5_ _th_ _celebration(s) if you wish, when Harry Potter will not be attending. We do hope to see you there._

 _Sincerely,_  
Hermione Granger  
Head Planner/Decorator

There were so many things in this one, short note. For one, my new alias must be Hyden Noah Lettone. The name was a bit odd, but I was sure I would get used to it eventually. Second, there is a celebration that I am to attend two days from now that I had not known about. This must be her way of telling me. Third, there were four days for celebration. Why in Merlin would there be four days? I only killed him once ( _or seven times technically, but I'm not going to count horcruxes_ ). It all was a lot to absorb.

And so, with all these things to think and worry about, the first thought I had was  _What am I going to wear?_  It disturbed me that I cared about what I looked like, especially if it was only going to be my friends ( _and fans?)_  there. Of course, I would have to send Hermione a letter back. And it would have to seem like it had nothing to do with her last message, since that wasn't really to me, but my alias.

_Dear Hermione,  
Hello. While staying in my room at Hogwarts, I've been bored, and so I was thinking. I thought about lots of things before I remembered the celebration for the one year anniversary of the "Dark Lord's Demise" you had planned, and I realized I had no idea what to wear. I would love some help with that._

_Love,  
Harry_

I tied it to the owl's leg and conjured up some little food pellets for it to snack on before it left. I knew it wasn't my owl, but when Hermione, Ron, and I went to get an owl for us ( _mostly Hermione, I suppose, since Ron didn't want an owl, and I didn't feel right having another one after Hedwig_ ), I made the final decision, choosing between a grey one ( _that tried to eat my fingers, but adored Hermione like no other_ ) and this speckled brown one. The brown one was nice enough ( _and could go through the day without eating my fingers when I try to read a note_ ), and was actually pretty easy to care for. The owl had a personality of its own, and that only made it so much more like a pet to me ( _but it wasn't, of course_ ). After eating the last pellet from my hand, it almost nodded in thanks, and then left out my window.

I sighed and looked out my window again. It seemed Hufflepuff was in the lead, but with a seeker like the one playing, Ravenclaw would make sure it wouldn't stay that way for too long. The bludger came really close to hitting the quaffle as one of the players passed it to a teammate.  _I hate it when that actually happens. Sometimes, I swear the beaters do that on purpose…_

Something flew up and landed right next to me on the window. I looked only to see the owl once again. Confused, I looked at the note tied to its leg, but there was none.

"Where did my note go?"

The owl let loose a small, blunt squawk and ruffled its feathers a bit. I saw it as a " _well-isn't-it-obvious?"_  gesture. I huffed.

"If I knew where the note was," I told it, "I wouldn't be asking. It should be on your foot, right?" It squawked again. "Well then where is it?"

There was a knock at my door. I sighed and went to answer it. There, of course, was Hermione, letter in hand.

"I was right in front of the school. I say we go shopping." She had a smile on her face and looked excited.

"Shopping?" I said more to myself. "Who said anything about shopping?"

"Well, if you don't know what to wear, maybe we should go out and get you something to wear."

"I have plenty of things to wear. Can't I just pick one of those things?"

Hermione sighed. "No. We're getting you a new outfit." She tugged at my arm. "Come  _on_ , Harry. It will be fun, I promise. I won't get a single thing. We're just shopping for you."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, alright…"

Hermione smiled and before I knew it, we were in an alley way. Hermione put her wand away and we walked on onto a busy London street right across from some fancy stores I had passed by a time or two ago but had never bothered to wander into.

 _This is going to last forever,_ I thought dreadfully.

We walked into the first store and Hermione immediately went up to a worker, asking him something I didn't quite catch. The man shook his head. Hermione sighed and nodded something, and we walked out once more.

"What was that about?" I asked her as we headed towards the next store.

"Honestly, Harry, I already have the most absolutely perfect thing in mind for you to wear to the celebration. I just need to find a store that has it."

"Oh." I followed her into the next store. Much of the same things happened: Hermione went up to a worker, the worker shook her head, and Hermione nodded and we left.

"What is it, exactly, that you have in mind that is so hard to find?"

"Just trust me, Harry. It will look marvelous on you."

We went on to the next store. Hermione had to walk around a bit to actually find a worker, but once she did, she asked the same question she had asked the other two.

"Excuse me, Miss. Do you happen to carry Ashen Slate suits by Vinn Moss *****?"

The lady bit the inside of her lip. "I think so. Here, let me ask my co-worker in the back room."

"Ashen Slate by Vinn Moss?"

"Trust me, you'll look stunning in it."

After a few minutes, the worker returned with a smile and an item of clothing. "We do, in fact, carry them. Looking at your friend here," she looked at me up and down, "I grabbed the perfect size." She handed Hermione the item. Hermione was trying really hard not to smile, but it was easy to tell she wanted to badly. She whispered something into the woman's ear. "Oh," she said, but forced a smile, nonetheless. "Right this way, to our dressing rooms."

The dressing rooms were pretty lavish for dressing rooms. The curtain was light blue velvet, and the floor was shaggy and cream-colored with golden flecks. I undressed and put on the suit that had been picked out for me. It fit pretty comfortably. Of course, in the lavishness of this dressing room, one would expect to turn around and have a full length mirror there, but there was no mirror at all in the room. I untied the curtain and stepped out to not only get Hermione's opinion, but to get my own opinion.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione smiled. "You look wonderful. Come, look." She dragged me to the full length mirror next to the door.

The suit was a sort of…well, ashen slate color. I hadn't thought much of it before I put it on, but now that it was on me, the greyness gave my pale skin some color, and my green eyes popped out against the neutrality. The shirt was white, but I wore a sliver vest lined with more ashen slate and had a silver tie to match it. My black, messy hair fell around the silver, and the contrast was nice. It was unbelievable that I had no idea, previously, that there could ever be a suit that would make me look absolutely handsome in every way possible ( _not to be so modest_ ).

"Wow," was all I could manage.

"We'll take it," Hermione said to the worker. "It's perfect."

The worker's mouth hung open, and she stared at me in awe.  _Was I really that bad looking before so that this is a huge improvement?_

Hermione cleared her throat and the worker snapped out of her trance. "Right away, Ma'am."

I leaned against the wall. "Hermione, is this really such a big improvement from before that the worker lady had a right to be shocked?" Hermione giggled.

"Harry…" she sighed, "It isn't such a big improvement. You were handsome before, and she noticed that. But now you're unbelievably handsome, that's why she was shocked." She leaned in and whispered, "It's alright. I told her you were gay."

"It's you're lucky day." The worker said. "This suit is on sale for 25 percent off!"

Hermione smiled. "Brilliant!"

I sighed and slid further down the wall, with my hand covering my eyes in embarrassment. "Thanks, Hermione," I said sarcastically. "Thanks…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This suit mentioned in the story does not exist.


	3. Loose Ties

**Draco's POV:**

There is a certain point of boredom that is reached where it cannot even be called boredom any longer; the absolute final stage of boredom. The first stage is typical of everyone, when they were doing something previously but presently have nothing to do. This can easily be cured with just about anything. The second stage is pretty identical to procrastination; you s _hould_  be doing something, but you would rather sit and be bored rather than doing what must be done, and eventually to preoccupy yourself, you do that thing. The third stage comes usually with too much time, mostly during vacations. You enjoy yourself for a few hours doing absolutely nothing until you're satisfied, but then realize quite quickly that you have nothing to do for more hours and so preoccupy yourself with childish or mundane things. The final stage is almost never achieved by most; where you have all the time in the world to do nothing and have no contact with the rest of the population of Earth. This is often common in jails, during punishment as an adolescent, or being stranded on a deserted island. There is no cure to this except leaving the place where you are stuck, though many in such situations believe sleeping, singing, dancing, and imagining things will fix such a state ( _but I assure you it's all a bloody lie_ ). Not only do these things become dull after much time has passed, but the person seems to be infected with many mental problems afterwards.

As I said earlier, the final state of boredom should not be called boredom. It has an entirely new name altogether. It's abhisiondom, pronounced "ab-HIS-on-dom" ( _Yes, I have been infected with it, and to try and pass the time, I came up with the name myself_ ). You may be asking yourself, "Abhisiondom; does that have some combination of roots, suffixes, prefixes and possibly other things put together to form the general definition and connotation of the absolute torture you describe?" Well, to you, I answer no. I picked letters from the alphabet that sounded nice together ( _I spent an hour at least seeing which ones sounded best together and wrote them down_ ) and put them together, then added "dom" at the end, like the word "boredom" has. That is the history of that word. Put it into every dictionary you have.

An owl flew straight into my room, since I had left the window open from when I was singing at the top of my lungs to the outside world _(lost my voice and had to stop_ ), and landed next to my foot. It was the same spotted owl I had sent Hermione earlier, and so I figured this was her response. It was, of course ( _Just because I'm insane does not mean I'm not observant_ ). When I untied it from the owl, two notes were there. I read the first.

 _Dear Draco Malfoy,  
I am very pleased to inform you that your request to attend the one year anniversary of the Dark Lord's demise has been accepted. Only a select amount of people were allowed in, Harry's close friends and fans, to keep the enemies, journalists, and other dislikable figures out. We have it confirmed that you were an acquaintance of Harry throughout your school years at Hogwarts, and so you qualified to attend the May 2_ _nd_ _celebration, which Mr. Potter will be attending. You are also welcome to attend the May 3_ _rd_ _, 4_ _th_ _, and/or 5_ _th_ _celebration(s) if you wish, which Harry will not be attending. We do hope to see you there._

 _Sincerely,_  
Hermione Granger  
Head Planner/Decorator

I smiled to myself, both in admiration for Hermione's uncanny ability to pull an event from thin air and in embarrassment of what she had done. It's a bit of a story, and I decided to think about it when I was bored and not when I had another note to read.

 _Dear Lucius Malfoy,  
I am very sorry to inform you that your request to attend the one year anniversary of the Dark Lord's demise has been rejected. There is only a select amount of people that may go, as to keep Harry Potter's close friends and fans separate from enemies, journalists, and other dislikable figures. You seem to have no ties at all to Mr. Potter, and therefore have no qualifications to attend the May 2_ _nd_ _celebration, when Mr. Potter will be attending. However, you are very welcome to attend the May 3_ _rd_ _, 4_ _th_ _, and/or 5_ _th_ _celebration(s) if you wish, when Harry Potter will not be attending. We do hope to see you there._

 _Sincerely,_  
Hermione Granger  
Head Planner/Decorator

I sighed. Though I was overjoyed that I would be going without his accompaniment, I despised having to willingly talk to him. I would rather die of abhisiondom.

Walking out into the hallway from my room was just about the oddest thing that had ever occurred. I had almost forgotten there was more to this manor. I walked down several hallways to the grand study, where I was sure my father would be. Of course, I knocked on the doors, and his voice clawed through the cracks. "Come in."

I walked through the doors, my eyes to the floor until I stopped a few feet into the room, then up to his face to speak to him. "A letter for you." I held out the letter and commanded it to float to him so I would not have to be any closer than we were now.

My father opened it, read it over, and his peaceful face turned into a frown. Even through the distance, I could hear him mutter to himself, "How could they reject my request? I have significant ties to Harry Potter. How could…"

He stopped a moment and looked up to me, realizing I had not left, and therefore had other things to discuss as well. "Yes, Draco?"

I swallowed hard. "I also received a letter, father. I was accepted to attend the celebration."

My father tilted his head as if to say "Really-now?-How-absolutely-curious". "Explain how this occurred. You never had the opportunity to even send in a request form. And as I recall, you are no friend of Harry Potter's, correct?"

"Yes, father, but I have recently become friends with Hermione Granger, the planner of the event, and she must have made sure I attended as her guest, if nothing else." I really hoped he didn't see the shades of red I now wore on my cheeks.

Moments of silence passed as my father planned out each step he wanted me to take as his puppet. "You will go, without me. Say nothing to anyone about the Dark Lord or the Malfoy family. Tell me who attends, as I wish to see what sorts of buffoons were let in over me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, father."

"Good." He looked back at his book, but added last minute, "Have fun, enjoy the mirth, meet a nice girl. Don't let my expectations get in the way of the celebration."

"Yes, father." I nodded and left back to my room, first at a normal pace, then faster and faster until I was running at full speed to my only safety zone. I arrived, jumped onto my bed, and buried my face into my pillow (N _ow it's time for the story_ ).

I could obviously never just be normal. Ever since fourth year, when I realized so much about myself, my view of myself was always off. I had never told anyone until more recently. Yes, I was gay. I had been fighting with myself all through my fourth year; one side said I was abnormal and disappointing, while the other said I was just me and there was nothing to change that. I finally accepted it afterwards but didn't tell anyone. After the war was over, and I decided to make my life a bit easier to live, I told my parents. My mother hadn't had a chance to say anything before my father yelled, swung arms around, and finally disowned me, though he didn't actually disown me until after our trial, since we had been associated with the Dark Lord.

Hence why my father had added in "meet a nice girl" to the list of "fun things" I was allowed to do at the celebration.

I had made a life for myself, making friends where I realized there should always have been friends. They were trustworthy, and kind, unlike how I had acted toward them during our school years together, so I told them not only that I was gay, but who had held my fancy through the years without any sort of question or uncertainty.

Hence why Hermione had not only created a celebration for me to attend, but for Harry to make a guest appearance at.

I'll admit it, I was in love with the famous Harry Potter, who was everyone's savior, and best friend, and idol, and person to count on when they have nothing else, even if my family was the only exception to all of that. She obviously had something in mind when she invited both of us. Really, I had planned to be his enemy through all our years at Hogwarts, but something about 4th year, when he was in the Triwizard Tournament ( _or really the Quadwizard Tournament_ ), when his life was so at risk ( _and not because of the tournament_ ), there was something in me that was scared for him, and I worried my butt off until he came back. I couldn't help but think that I had a thing for him after that; not very many people care that much for someone they consider an enemy.

Which is why I've only become more infatuated with him ever since he rescued me from the Room of Requirement. Yes, I realize he is a hero who can't help but save people ( _it's what he does best_ ) and would probably have tried to save the Dark Lord himself if he could have. And yes, I know he also went to rescue Crabbe, so I'm not really special at all, but still…he saved me, in more ways than one. Without him, I would still be a coward to my father. I never would have tried to get a better life for myself, or made the friends I did, or come really close to getting a job but they wouldn't hire me( _It's not my fault that I have no people-skills_ ). Of course, I did give it all away to get where I am now…

And here we are again. I can't even stop thinking about how good I had it, and how I instantly gave it all up for some garbage can ( _and by garbage can, I mean huge, multi-million dollar, cold and hollow garbage can with marble floors, more rooms than one can count, and a backyard that can accommodate its own Quidditch field_ ). I'm not even sure an insane person would even do such a thing anymore. I was past insane. I'm…thrinticane ( _place this in your dictionaries as well_ ).

I inhaled deeply, then held my breath.  _Maybe I can suffocate myself for fun,_  I thought.  _Wonder what my record will be._  Of course, I started counting.  _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10…_

… _23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31…._

… _45, 46, 47…48…49…_

I exhaled, my lungs on fire and my heartbeat present in my ears. My chest felt extra dense as I started breathing in slowly. I sat for a while, just staring at things and keeping in tune with how I felt exactly after not breathing for nearly a minute.  _Nearly_  a minute.  _Have to try again, then._   _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9…_

_20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27…_

_40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50…_

_52…53…54….55….56…..57….._

Once again I exhaled sharply. This time, I was quite lightheaded. I obviously didn't have the lungs to do this. I read a book once about two different types of people who can hold their breath for a while and only get lightheaded much after most others do: Musicians and swimmers. Swimmers, obviously, because they go underwater a lot and must hold their breath quite often as to get farther without popping up for air, which would cost them seconds in their competitive matches. Musicians, with the exception of stringed instrument players and percussion instrument players, must be able to hold their breath and only give out so much air at a time to play correctly, with dynamics, speed, and whatnot. Singers must do the same, but also control their pitch with their diaphragm, and not to mention have a natural talent for it, since anyone can learn to play an instrument. The term "golden pipes" is given to them for a reason.

I sighed to my invisible friend, Paisley the miniature dragon. "You know, Paisley, I question how I ramble to myself about random facts that have nothing to do with anything. Do you think that I may be thrinticane?"

Paisley's small, dark green, shimmery body twisted to look at me from near the window because he couldn't blow bubbles inside my room, he would get soap everywhere. He smiled with pearly white, sharp teeth and lovely silver eyes with black pupils.

"Maybe," he said, "just maybe."

* * *

**3rd Person POV:**

The Minister of Magic sat at his desk, rubbing his temples while the next person came in to complain. He was sure he couldn't take it any longer; these people were driving him insane!  _And all over a little party_. Of course, he had no other choice  _but_  to let the party go on. It was an important holiday, the 1 year anniversary of the Dark Lord's Demise.

His assistant opened the door and stepped in. Usually she knocked before entering, but she figured he could care less at the moment. "The next person is here about the celebration, Minister."

A lady walked in, looking no more than 19 years of age with black hair and hazel eyes. She went right ahead and sat down in the chair across from the Minister's desk without even allowing him to motion for her to sit. "Minister, I don't understand. I sent my request to the party, and I received a letter back saying that I was rejected because I have no ties to Harry Potter."

"Do you have any ties to Harry Potter?" The minister asked rather blandly. He already knew the answer. The same thing had happened 6 times today already.

"Yes, of course. I'm his sister."

The Minister raised an eyebrow. He had heard cousin, aunt, and even uncle's cousin's son twice removed. Did she really expect him to believe that Harry Potter had a sister no one knew about? And older than him, nonetheless. "Oh really now? I hadn't known Mr. Potter had a sister."

"Yes. Can't you see the resemblance?" She smiled like it would make a difference.

The Minister only half-matched her smile. "But of course. I see it. You look exactly like your mother, Misses…," he trailed off for her to finish.

"Potter," she said.

"Misses _what_ Potter?"

The lady did not respond for a moment. She merely looked at the Minister, and her cheeks ever so slightly rosy in dismay.

"Surely you know the name of your own mother."

She opened her mouth to speak, but the Minister interrupted. "And how odd that you had sent a request and have it be rejected. His friends, and whatever remaining family, were invited to the celebration before the requests were even available to fill out." The lady's mouth hung open, knowing she had been found out. "That is what I thought. Now, if will excuse me, Miss  _Potter_ , I really do have quite a busy schedule." He gestured to the door with his hand; she rose and left his office quietly, her Glamour falling away and revealing her brown eyes and light brown hair.

As the door closed behind her, the Minister took back to rubbing his temples. It really was preposterous that people really thought they could pose as family members of the boy-who-has-no-(magical) relatives-left.

"Minister, the next person is here about the celebration."

This time, a man walked through wearing glasses, with black hair and green eyes, looking to be in his 40s. This man got straight to the point and didn't even bother sitting down across from the minister.

"Why has my request for the celebration been rejected? I have more relation to Harry Potter than anyone else. I'm his father!"

The Minister openly sighed and rubbed his forehead.  _Dear me,_  he thought.  _This is going to be a long day._

* * *

**Cygnus's POV:**

I was relieved. Beyond relieved, really. I hadn't planned to be outside on a grassy hill where no one ever cares to go. I loved the fresh air and being so free from everything. I might have repercussions later, but I cared less about them.

A speckled owl flew overhead, and I smiled at its familiarity. It descended and delivered me my note, which I untied and read.

 _Dear Cygnus Holloster,  
I am very sorry to inform you that your request to attend the one year anniversary of the Dark Lord's demise has been rejected. There is only a select amount of people that may go, as to keep Harry Potter's close friends and fans separate from enemies, journalists, and other dislikable figures. You seem to have no ties at all to Mr. Potter, and therefore have no qualifications to attend the May 2_ _nd_ _celebration, when Mr. Potter will be attending. However, you are very welcome to attend the May 3_ _rd_ _, 4_ _th_ _, and/or 5_ _th_ _celebration(s) if you wish, when Harry Potter will not be attending. We do hope to see you there._

 _Sincerely,_  
Hermione Granger  
Head Planner/Decorator

I smiled to myself.  _Good._


	4. Young and Innocent

**3rd Person POV:**

Harry found that he had nothing to do. He had woken up this morning with plans to relax and watch the Quidditch players practice maybe. Of course, he had spent the first two hours doing just that, and then realized it wasn't even noon yet. He had so many more hours to kill, but what to kill them with? He honestly hadn't believed for a moment he would ever have time to breathe after defeating Voldemort, but here he was, sitting on his overly comfy bed, wondering what to do next. At the moment, he was just looking about his room, taking everything in, from the scarlet wallpaper to the plain wood floor, from the monstrous pile of clothes that he had made on the floor this morning when he was picking what to wear for his day of nothing, to the window with such bright light pouring through it and spilling over his room in a big mess of sunbeams, illuminating everything, and then over to his bedside table.

 _Of course!_  He knew exactly what he was going to do with the rest of his day.

Harry grabbed his ring from the table, the grey stone so oddly close to matching his skin, but so different from the gold that shone around it with black words that stuck out a mile away. He slipped it onto his finger and looked down at himself. He felt so foolish thinking he could just walk around without looking different to himself. His confidence in the ring was low. He sighed to himself and walked into the bathroom over to his full length mirror. He was almost startled when he actually did have light brown hair, and brown eyes, and an entirely different face. He looked taller.  _It's about time,_  he thought. Although Harry considered himself a man, he still turned around and made a few poses in the mirror, enjoying his new look. Harry Potter had left the building. He was Hyden Noah Lettone now.

He would still have to get used to that name. Maybe a nickname was in order.

For now, he figured it didn't matter. Who would he really meet anyway? He just wanted to walk around for a bit without being harassed by women.

With a turn and a crack, he apparated to Diagon Alley. He smiled as he walked, looking around at the people, who passed by him like he was no one important. Someone even bumped into him without apologizing! He was in heaven. He decided to venture out of Diagon Alley, going where ever the crowds were taking him. This way, and that way; down heavily populated streets, into shops and out of shops. Then, when that got boring, he tried filling empty places were few people were. On the corners of streets, and streets that branched off big ones; anywhere he felt was too empty. He wondered and wondered on further, reaching a completely empty street, and then a lonely park, and then a huge green field. He wasn't even sure where he was, or how he got there, but no one was there. He felt like an explorer, discovering distant lands no one dared to occupy.

He walked somewhere in the middle of it, though it was hard to tell on account of its large size; just because he looked taller didn't mean he was taller. His eyes scanned the horizon, finding absolutely nothing but grass all around him. He smiled and sat down wondering what exactly he wanted to do with his new territory. Of course, this was the perfect place to practice some wandless magic; no noise, no muggles, no worries.

_A warm summer day, in a field of flowers. My mother is standing to my right, and my father to my left. Hermione is smiling before me, holding Ron's hand. Dumbledore behind them, with that twinkle in his eyes. Snape, smiling at me for once, next to him._

" _ **Expecto Patronum.**_ "

Blue wisps in a somewhat ball-shaped form appeared, tilting back and forth, like it was trying to sprout legs. In all honesty, it probably was. Hyden closed his eyes and felt his blood pump magic throughout his body. In this meditative state, Hyden was powerful.

_Sitting in a grass field, not worrying about anyone recognizing me as Harry Potter, the Chosen One. Being able to do anything I want because no one can see._

" _ **Expecto Patronum.**_ "

This time, Hyden felt the magic inside him extend into the air, and take form.

He opened his eyes to a ghostly blue stag, looking into his eyes with thought. He smiled at it, and it mimicked his movement. Hyden stood, and the stag straightened. Hyden walked to the left, the stag followed suit. He smiled and decided to have some fun. Hyden began running around in circles, singing his favorite song, and watching his stag run after him.

"I heard there was a secret cord, that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you? Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift; the baffled king composing. Halleluiah!" Hyden smiled and ran around some more. His stag was running around with him, same smile plastered on its muzzle. Hyden stopped, out of breath, and lay down on his back in the grass. The stag dispersed as Hyden let the magic be disconnected from his blood magic, and vanish into the air.

"Well your faith was strong, but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof; her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you. And she tied you to her kitchen chair; she broke your throne, she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the 'Halleluiah.' Halleluiah. Halleluiah. Halleluiah. Halleluiah. Halleluuuuuuuiah." Hyden's voice sounded different from his normal voice; it wasn't as deep, and so he didn't like it. He would rather have his voice that could make leaves tremble, and the Earth vibrate oh so warmly.

He wished he could be himself.

Of course, not too far away, another man was dead still, waiting to hear another sound. He had been lying down in the grass, daydreaming, when he had heard a noise. He had thought he was here alone. He wasn't even aware that others knew about his special, secretive place. He  _had_  heard someone else, right? Surely he wasn't hearing things. He very carefully sat up, and made sure he made no sound whatsoever.

 _Nothing._  He looked around and saw what he had seen when he had arrived; just grass. He put his hand on the ground to stabilize his position, and a twig cracked rather loudly.

Hyden froze. That was a twig he heard crack. Someone was here other than him. Was it someone who wanted to attack him? All these thoughts ran through his mind instantly, but he soon remembered, he wasn't Harry Potter. He was Hyden Noah Lettone. No one wanted to kill him, wanted him in jail, or even knew him. The man cursed himself for being dumb. He should have known the moment he let his guard down that he would foil himself.

_So much for being quiet._

Hyden sat up and instantly saw the man a little distance away. He had black hair, bright blue eyes, and rather well muscled arms (he noted). They stared at each other a moment before Hyden realized that he was not the colonizer he had thought he was, but more so a Christopher Columbus.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't realize there was someone else here."

The man nodded. "Me too."

Hyden felt terribly awkward, like he was intruding in someone else's home.

"Uh…" he looked for what to do, and decided to give an introduction, since the situation couldn't possibly get more awkward. "My name's Hyden."

The man looked at Hyden. "That's interesting."

Hyden was wrong, of course. The conversation only got worse as time progressed.

"Uh, are you going to say your name? That's typically what you do in an introduction."

"Oh," the man said. "I didn't realize I had to introduce myself to a complete stranger who is in my field."

Hyden sighed on the inside. "Alright, then. Fair enough." He stood, brushed the grass off his clothes, and pulled his wand from his pocket without even thinking, about to disapparate.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked the man, standing up as well.

Hyden realized his mistake. What if the man was a muggle? He really should have thought that through. "Uh…."

"I didn't say you could leave." The man said.

 _So he's not a muggle, then. Bloody hell… I almost had a heart attack._  "Oh. Alright." Hyden put his wand away, glad that he was lucky, even if he wasn't always smart.

"My name is Cygnus. Cygnus Holloster." He half smiled.

"Hello, Cygnus." Hyden gave a small wave of his hand, "So, this is your field?"

Cygnus shrugged. "More or less. No one else has ever come here. Just me." He looked back to Hyden. "How did you find this place, Hyden?"

Hyden scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Well, you see, there's a funny story to that. I was following this crowd of people for the longest time, and then I was avoiding it, and then I just kept walking, and I just found this place. I don't even know where we are."

Nodding, Cygnus eyed Hyden cautiously, evaluating the truth of his story. Considering that Hyden was not meek under his gaze, but rather shy, he guessed he was most likely not lying (unless he was some sort of talented actor, then he supposed he wouldn't be able to tell then).

"Alright."

He stood, waiting for Cygnus to say more, or explain why he had just simply said  _"alright"_. Instead, he looked into his blue eyes and heard silence.

_Those blue eyes…_

They were so intensely colored; they could have been a Glamour, or maybe his imagination. He had never met anyone with such bright eyes before now, and he found it rather intimidating that Cygnus stared right back into his eyes. Hyden almost suspected he could see through his disguise, but of course, that would be impossible...right?

Cygnus, on the other hand, was staring into Hyden's eyes, amazed at the size of them. In all actuality, they were the same size as anyone else's, but something about them, his irises maybe, that made them seem so large and warm, like an innocent puppy left on the street; He wouldn't bring the puppy home, but he would certainly make sure it found a lovely home. It wasn't that he didn't like puppies, but there were certain rules in his "house" that forbid them. But how he would love a puppy to take home…

"'Alright' what?" Hyden asked.

"'Alright' you can stay." Cygnus turned halfway, but then looked back to add, "But only if you sing me songs and dance around in circles again" with a grin.

Hyden scratched his head again. "You heard that?"

"How could I not?" It was a very true point. Cygnus had heard him from a mile away, especially the high notes. They weren't bad, really.  _Hyden would be a great tenor,_ he thought, but secretly thought of a bit deeper, smoother singing voice that he had only heard once before, on accident. He loved it, and wished he could hear it again.

"Sorry. I was…uhm…just feeling free I guess."

Cygnus smiled just a hair. "I could tell."

A moment of silence passed between them, a bit awkward, but Cygnus hoped to make it end.

"Oh, please, by all means, don't stop feeling free on my account."

Hyden thought he was being sarcastic for a second, but quickly realized he was not. He smiled, showing his slightly unaligned teeth that did not belong to him

"Would you like to join me? There's enough freedom to go around."

Cygnus truly and genuinely smiled now, like he was looking at a small child, whom he would accompany in their games. "If I may start the song, then. It's an old favorite of…" he paused and continued like the word didn't sting after he said, "my father." I cleared his throat and looked sheepishly to Hyden. "You may not know it."

"Go on then." Hyden urged.

Cygnus took in a breath and then began:

"It's all the same, only the names have changed. Every day, it seems we're wasting away. Another place where the faces are so cold. I drive all night just to get back home." Cygnus took a step to his left, trying to get into some sort of movement that would jump start the running in circles.

"I'm a cowboy, on the steel horse I ride. I wanted, dead or alive." Hyden, of course, smiled, and went ahead and joined in with him. They started jumping around a bit, getting used to relaxing, and sang together:

"Sometimes I sleep; sometimes it's not for days. The people I meet always go their separate ways. Sometimes you tell the day, by the bottle that you drink; sometimes when you're alone, and all you do is think. I'm a cowboy, on the steel horse I ride. I'm wanted, dead or alive." By now, they had taken to jumping around like there was nothing else in the world. They needed this, not only to become friends and have fun, but to forget the things they thought were unforgettable. The carefree moment was so much more in value than either of them would have guessed.

"Ohhhhhh and I ride!" They chuckled to themselves, feeling absolutely silly, but continuing on, nonetheless. Hyden got onto his knees and pretended to play his guitar wildly; mimicking the guitar solo he had been listening to in his head.

"I'm WANTED, dead or alive!" Cygnus continued. He ran into Hyden and they toppled to the floor laughing their heads off, and rolling over onto the grass with their eyes to the clear blue sky.

Their laughter died down after a while, and thoughts made their way back into their heads; memories of other fun times, or the last occurrence of such foolishness. It was so very nice to feel like a child for once; to find a stranger of the same age, and to talk, and then to play like they had been friends for years, oblivious to anything else in the world. An eternity could have passed, and the children would play the same, regardless, not aging in mind nor spirit. Blue and brown eyes looked up at the sky, imagining if there had been clouds, what they would be shaped like, or if maybe they could find some wild flowers to make into bracelet, of course, they could always just make it themselves if they didn't find any…

Hyden was, of course, the first to sit up, pull out his wand, and begin to grow flowers in the grass beside him; Daisies, to be exact. Their little white petals appeared from grass blades, blooming in rapid motion not too far off from a sped up picked them, and began to weave them together with his hands, twisting one stem around another, and then that one around another, and the first around another.

Cygnus sat up alongside him, using his hands, he cast vapor into the air. Nothing happened at first, but before long, it all condensed and a white, perfectly puffy cloud, just a little too close to the ground, formed. He looked it over a moment, taking in its shape like an inkblot.

"Look," he said to Hyden at last. "It's a rabbit."

Hyden looked over from his weaving. He was almost done with his bracelet. "I don't see it."

Cygnus pointed to the front of the cloud. "See here? This is the tail" He pointed to the bottom, "the legs," and then pointed to the top, "and this is the head."

Hyden had all the flowers he needed weaved in. Now all he needed was a wrist to put it around.

"Oh, I see it now." Hyden held out his hand and ordered, "Let me see your wrist."

With great pleasure, Cygnus gave Hyden his wrist, and Hyden wrapped his flower bracelet around it, twisting the stems this way and that, then pulled out his wand and cast a spell to make sure it stayed, at least for a day or two. Hyden smiled at his work. "Perfect."

Cygnus really looked at him, and saw for the first time. Hyden was the part of himself that he was missing; the childish, positively brilliant part that he had been forced to leave behind as a child. This was his new friend.

"Absolutely perfect," Cygnus added.

* * *

Here he was again. The Minister really was starting to grow a bit tired of this office instead of out and about like he used to be, sitting here 24 hours a day seven days a week, it seemed. Obviously, that was an exaggeration, since he needed time to sleep, and maybe a day off if he was lucky, but usually he came in to work anyway. So really, the seven days a week part is true, but the 24 hours part is not.

He was thankfully done with those foolish people and their desires to attend a certain party on May the 2nd ( _and not to mention the pure obsession they had with their hero, Mr. Potter_ ). Really, every single one of the appointments had been absolutely pointless, and wasteful, and just plain odd. Of course, he would have some lovely stories to tell later on, as conversation jokes. Really, he did have a great one to tell.

A man had come in ( _not to long after the man who said he was Harry's father, alive and well_ ) in normal clothes, nothing Potter-like about him at all. The Minister was sure his secretary had been mistaken when she had told him that the man was here to complain about the celebration. He wasn't rich, or poor, just in the middle. He had blonde hair, and brown eyes, nothing too off about this man at all.

The Minister had gestured to the chair before him, and the man sat down in a perfect, orderly fashion. He gave a professional smile and asked him

"What may I help you with today?" He thought that maybe the man was here for a more important matter. Of course, the Minister didn't care, as long as he stayed polite, like the others had not been.

"Well, Minister, it seems that I was sent the wrong message."

"Oh? What message were you to have received then, and what did you receive instead?"

"I was to attend the one year anniversary of the Dark Lord's demise in a few days. I had signed up, and so I expected to receive my formal invitation that I would take to get in, but it seems that I was sent the wrong letter, as this one says I was not invited. I signed up on the list, and I need my invitation," he held out his hand to the Minister, "if you please."

The Minister's smile fell a bit. "I'm terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but that list you signed up on was a request list. There still had to be approving done, otherwise anyone could be able to attend the party. The message you received was not by mistake."

The man stared blankly at the Minister, like the words had not made it quite to his brain. "Oh no, I did get the wrong letter. I signed up to be invited, not rejected."

"Yes, but not everyone was taken. Only a few were accepted to attend the May 2nd celebration."

The man nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, I know. I signed up for that. I was supposed to get the acceptance letter."

He obviously was not getting the picture, and so the Minister tried to approach from a different angle.

"Only people with ties to Harry Potter were accepted. Do you have any ties?"

The man looked confused, but smiled. "Of course, I've got one right here." He held up the red and grey striped tie that hung from his neck, "See? I have a tie. I should be accepted."

The minister held his forehead in his palm and grumbled inside his mind. "No. What I mean is relationships. Do you have any sort of connection to Harry Potter?"

"Oh," the man looked startled, "No, no, no. I'm not like that. I don't have relations with men."

There was a moment of silence as the Minister stared at the man in disbelief.

"Connections," he repeated, "Connections."

The man thought for a moment. "I could send him an owl if you like, to keep connected with him. I'll be sure to tell him I don't want to have any relations with him."

The Minister stayed calm, but he knew the man really was hardheaded. "Are you any sort of family member of Mr. Potter's?"

"No," said the man, shaking his head.

"Are you friends with Mr. Potter?"

"No," he said again.

"Then, I apologize, but you cannot be allowed into the celebration, sir."

"But, I signed up!"

The Minister looked down at his desk in thought, but then smiled to himself as an idea came into his mind. Oh, of course…he would make sure this man got what he wanted.

"Oh! You signed up? Well, that changes everything. You can't be seen attending the May 2nd celebration.  _You_  should attend the May _3_ _rd_ celebration."

The man smiled and nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir."

The man just smiled and waved, and left. The Minister was surprised that any man could be so gullible. At this very moment, his secretary walked into his office once again. He sighed out of habit and said "Who is next?" before she could say anything. She winced. She knew he was stressed about the celebration. She had insisted that he let the planner take care of all the complaints, but like usual, he handled the hard work himself.

"I was wondering if I could go on my lunch break, actually."

"Ah, yes. Of course. Have a nice lunch." He shooed her off with a smile and a gesture of his hand and pulled some papers out of his desk and began writing. He looked so busy…she hated to disturb him. She left quietly, leaving the Minister to finish his work in peace.

* * *

**Draco's POV:**

I was beyond frustrated. I wanted nothing more but to send a  _ **Bombarda**_  at this stupid and useless object, but of course, I couldn't. It was attached to me. I pulled, and tugged, and cast a weak and wandless  _ **Finite Incantatem**_ , but nothing seemed to work. I feared for my future. My father had wanted to further discuss what I was to say at the celebration on May 2nd, and so I was meeting him in the dining hall in a few minutes, and yet this  _thing_  was preventing me from doing so. It was just my luck that I would get into a situation like this.

 _So_  many things ran through my mind, all running into each other and going around and around in circles.  _I can't let him see this because he would beat me, but who cares if he does because then I would have a reason to move out, but then I'm sure he wouldn't let me, but then again I thought he hated me, because that is a good reason to beat people, but of course, I could wear a long sleeve shirt over it, but my only clean long sleeve shirt is my red one, and it does not match my almost-black blue pants, so he's going to see it if I go, but I can't go because he would beat me…_

There was a knock at my door, loud and furious; I almost feared that my door would crash in on itself.

"Draco!" It was, of course, my father.

"What in Merlin's name is keeping you so long? Dinner is ready and we have much to discuss. I will not stand for this tardiness in my domain." I was running around, thinking of something, anything, that would save me from this. Being a Slytherin, I was usually good at that sort of thing, but the pressure to succeed in such little time was too much, and my brain turned to mush.

"Draco! How dare you keep me waiting!" His anger did not make his voice louder, but more sharp, and precise, like a blade that's purpose in life was to cut through body until it reached my very soul. "Come out here immediately!"

I thumped my forehead in a realization of an obvious solution, then cast a quick wandless spell to make my sleeves long. I opened the door sheepishly and looked up at my father. His face was beginning to turn the color of fire; yellow at the edges, but red in the middle. His head seemed to shake while he kept a quite but fierce tone.

"You should know better than to  _ever_  keep me waiting. Do you know how important this celebration is? The whole Malfoy name in on the line. You should be ashamed of disgracing our name, the name  _I_  gave to you!" I put up my arm in sort of a defensive move, because I knew his hand would be swinging at any moment. He grabbed my wrist, and prepared to slap me with his other hand, but froze at what he felt holding onto my wrist. He lowered his hand slowly and used it to pull back my sleeve. I tried to yank it away, but his grip was firm and I could not budge his hands. With my wrist fully exposed, his grey eyes, ice cold with rage, pierced me.

"What is this?"

Really, I would rather he had slapped me. Nothing would get me into more trouble with my father than what he was staring at right now, that is, if I told the truth about it.

"It's quite obvious what it is." I said, not able to hold back my natural tongue. He slapped me anyway. My cheek burned red, with a feeling of a million tiny needles pricking my skin every second.

"Tell me what this is. Look at me!"

I looked up, red cheeked and red brimmed eyes, to the helpless thing that still clung to my wrist.

"What is this?" he pointed to the only thing that had made me truly happy in the awful, bland days I had been here. A tear spilled over, and I confessed, looking at the innocence he was destroying.

"It's a flower bracelet."


	5. Bruised

**3rd Person POV:**

Harry found that he had nothing to do. He had woken up this morning with plans to relax and watch the Quidditch players practice maybe. Of course, he had spent the first two hours doing just that, and then realized it wasn't even noon yet. He had so many more hours to kill, but what to kill them with? He honestly hadn't believed for a moment he would ever have time to breathe after defeating Voldemort, but here he was, sitting on his overly comfy bed, wondering what to do next. At the moment, he was just looking about his room, taking everything in, from the scarlet wallpaper to the plain wood floor, from the monstrous pile of clothes that he had made on the floor this morning when he was picking what to wear for his day of nothing, to the window with such bright light pouring through it and spilling over his room in a big mess of sunbeams, illuminating everything, and then over to his bedside table.

_Of course!_  He knew exactly what he was going to do with the rest of his day.

Harry grabbed his ring from the table, the grey stone so oddly close to matching his skin, but so different from the gold that shone around it with black words that stuck out a mile away. He slipped it onto his finger and looked down at himself. He felt so foolish thinking he could just walk around without looking different to himself. His confidence in the ring was low. He sighed to himself and walked into the bathroom over to his full length mirror. He was almost startled when he actually did have light brown hair, and brown eyes, and an entirely different face. He looked taller.  _It's about time,_  he thought. Although Harry considered himself a man, he still turned around and made a few poses in the mirror, enjoying his new look. Harry Potter had left the building. He was Hyden Noah Lettone now.

He would still have to get used to that name. Maybe a nickname was in order.

For now, he figured it didn't matter. Who would he really meet anyway? He just wanted to walk around for a bit without being harassed by women.

With a turn and a crack, he apparated to Diagon Alley. He smiled as he walked, looking around at the people, who passed by him like he was no one important. Someone even bumped into him without apologizing! He was in heaven. He decided to venture out of Diagon Alley, going where ever the crowds were taking him. This way, and that way; down heavily populated streets, into shops and out of shops. Then, when that got boring, he tried filling empty places were few people were. On the corners of streets, and streets that branched off big ones; anywhere he felt was too empty. He wondered and wondered on further, reaching a completely empty street, and then a lonely park, and then a huge green field. He wasn't even sure where he was, or how he got there, but no one was there. He felt like an explorer, discovering distant lands no one dared to occupy.

He walked somewhere in the middle of it, though it was hard to tell on account of its large size; just because he looked taller didn't mean he was taller. His eyes scanned the horizon, finding absolutely nothing but grass all around him. He smiled and sat down wondering what exactly he wanted to do with his new territory. Of course, this was the perfect place to practice some wandless magic; no noise, no muggles, no worries.

_A warm summer day, in a field of flowers. My mother is standing to my right, and my father to my left. Hermione is smiling before me, holding Ron's hand. Dumbledore behind them, with that twinkle in his eyes. Snape, smiling at me for once, next to him._

" _ **Expecto Patronum**_ ". Blue wisps in a somewhat ball-shaped form appeared, tilting back and forth, like it was trying to sprout legs. In all honesty, it probably was. Hyden closed his eyes and felt his blood pump magic throughout his body. In this meditative state, Hyden was powerful.

_Sitting in a grass field, not worrying about anyone recognizing me as Harry Potter, the Chosen One. Being able to do anything I want because no one can see._

" _ **Expecto Patronum**_ ". This time, Hyden felt the magic inside him extend into the air, and take form.

He opened his eyes to a ghostly blue stag, looking into his eyes with thought. He smiled at it, and it mimicked his movement. Hyden stood, and the stag straightened. Hyden walked to the left, the stag followed suit. He smiled and decided to have some fun. Hyden began running around in circles, singing his favorite song, and watching his stag run after him.

"*I heard there was a secret cord, that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you? Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift; the baffled king composing. Halleluiah!" Hyden smiled and ran around some more. His stag was running around with him, same smile plastered on its muzzle. Hyden stopped, out of breath, and lay down on his back in the grass. The stag dispersed as Hyden let the magic be disconnected from his blood magic, and vanish into the air.

"Well your faith was strong, but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof; her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you. And she tied you to her kitchen chair; she broke your throne, she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the 'Halleluiah.' Halleluiah. Halleluiah. Halleluiah. Halleluiah. Halleluuuuuuuiah." Hyden's voice sounded different from his normal voice; it wasn't as deep, and so he didn't like it. He would rather have his voice that could make leaves tremble, and the Earth vibrate oh so warmly.

He wished he could be himself.

Of course, not too far away, another man was dead still, waiting to hear another sound. He had been lying down in the grass, daydreaming, when he had heard a noise. He had thought he was here alone. He wasn't even aware that others knew about his special, secretive place. He  _had_  heard someone else, right? Surely he wasn't hearing things. He very carefully sat up, and made sure he made no sound whatsoever.

_Nothing._  He looked around and saw what he had seen when he had arrived; just grass. He put his hand on the ground to stabilize his position, and a twig cracked rather loudly.

Hyden froze. That was a twig he heard crack. Someone was here other than him. Was it someone who wanted to attack him? All these thoughts ran through his mind instantly, but he soon remembered, he wasn't Harry Potter. He was Hyden Noah Lettone. No one wanted to kill him, wanted him in jail, or even knew him. The man cursed himself for being dumb. He should have known the moment he let his guard down that he would foil himself.

_So much for being quiet._

Hyden sat up and instantly saw the man a little distance away. He had black hair, bright blue eyes, and rather well muscled arms (he noted). They stared at each other a moment before Hyden realized that he was not the colonizer he had thought he was, but more so a Christopher Columbus.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't realize there was someone else here." The man nodded.

"Me too."

Hyden felt terribly awkward, like he was intruding in someone else's home.

"Uh…" he looked for what to do, and decided to give an introduction, since the situation couldn't possibly get more awkward.

"My name's Hyden." The man looked at Hyden.

"That's interesting."

Hyden was wrong, of course. The conversation only got worse as time progressed.

"Uh, are you going to say your name? That's typically what you do in an introduction."

"Oh, I didn't realize I had to introduce myself to a complete stranger who is in my field." Hyden sighed on the inside.

"Alright, then. Fair enough." He stood, brushed the grass off his clothes, and pulled his wand from his pocket without even thinking, about to disapparate.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked the man, standing up as well.

Hyden realized his mistake. What if the man was a muggle? He really should have thought that through. "Uh…."

"I didn't say you could leave." The man said.

_So he's not a muggle, then. Bloody hell… I almost had a heart attack._  "Oh. Alright." Hyden put his wand away, glad that he was lucky, even if he wasn't always smart.

"My name is Cygnus. Cygnus Holloster." He half smiled.

"Hello, Cygnus." Hyden gave a small wave of his hand, "So, this is your field?"

Cygnus shrugged. "More or less. No one else has ever come here. Just me." He looked back to Hyden.

"How did you find this place, Hyden?" Hyden scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Well, you see, there's a funny story to that. I was following this crowd of people for the longest time, and then I was avoiding it, and then I just kept walking, and I just found this place. I don't even know where we are."

Nodding, Cygnus eyed Hyden cautiously, evaluating the truth of his story. Considering that Hyden was not meek under his gaze, but rather shy, he guessed he was most likely not lying (unless he was some sort of talented actor, then he supposed he wouldn't be able to tell then).

"Alright."

He stood, waiting for Cygnus to say more, or explain why he had just simply said  _"alright"_. Instead, he looked into his blue eyes and heard silence.

_Those blue eyes…_

They were so intensely colored; they could have been a Glamour, or maybe his imagination. He had never met anyone with such bright eyes before now, and he found it rather intimidating that Cygnus stared right back into his eyes. Hyden almost suspected he could see through his disguise, but of course, that would be impossible...right?

Cygnus, on the other hand, was staring into Hyden's eyes, amazed at the size of them. In all actuality, they were the same size as anyone else's, but something about them, his irises maybe, that made them seem so large and warm, like an innocent puppy left on the street; He wouldn't bring the puppy home, but he would certainly make sure it found a lovely home. It wasn't that he didn't like puppies, but there were certain rules in his "house" that forbid them. But how he would love a puppy to take home…

"'Alright' what?" Hyden asked.

"'Alright' you can stay." Cygnus turned halfway, but then looked back to add, "But only if you sing me songs and dance around in circles again" with a grin.

Hyden scratched his head again. "You heard that?"

"How could I not?" It was a very true point. Cygnus had heard him from a mile away, especially the high notes. They weren't bad, really, but Cygnus preferred the lovely tremble of a base.

_Hyden would be a great tenor,_ he thought, but secretly thought of a bit deeper, smoother singing voice that he had only heard once before, on accident. He loved it, and wished he could hear it again.

"Sorry. I was…uhm…just feeling free I guess." Cygnus smiled just a hair.

"I could tell." A moment of silence passed between them, a bit awkward, but Cygnus hoped to make it end.

"Oh, please, by all means, don't stop feeling free on my account." Hyden thought he was being sarcastic for a second, but quickly realized he was not. He smiled, showing his slightly unaligned teeth that did not belong to him

"Would you like to join me? There's enough freedom to go around." Cygnus truly and genuinely smiled now, like he was looking at a small child, whom he would accompany in their games.

"If I may start the song, then. It's an old favorite of…" he paused and continued like the word didn't sting after he said, "my father." I cleared his throat and looked sheepishly to Hyden.

"You may not know it."

"Go on then." Hyden urged.

Cygnus took in a breath and then began:

"*It's all the same, only the names have changed. Every day, it seems we're wasting away. Another place where the faces are so cold. I drive all night just to get back home." Cygnus took a step to his left, trying to get into some sort of movement that would jump start the running in circles.

"I'm a cowboy, on the steel horse I ride. I wanted, dead or alive." Hyden, of course, smiled, and went ahead and joined in with him. They started jumping around a bit, getting used to relaxing, and sang together:

"Sometimes I sleep; sometimes it's not for days. The people I meet always go their separate ways. Sometimes you tell the day, by the bottle that you drink; sometimes when you're alone, and all you do is think. I'm a cowboy, on the steel horse I ride. I'm wanted, dead or alive." By now, they had taken to jumping around like there was nothing else in the world. They needed this, not only to become friends and have fun, but to forget the things they thought were unforgettable. The carefree moment was so much more in value than either of them would have guessed.

"Ohhhhhh and I ride!" They chuckled to themselves, feeling absolutely silly, but continuing on, nonetheless. Hyden got onto his knees and pretended to play his guitar wildly; mimicking the guitar solo he had been listening to in his head.

"I'm WANTED, dead or alive!" Cygnus continued. He ran into Hyden and they toppled to the floor laughing their heads off, and rolling over onto the grass with their eyes to the clear blue sky.

Their laughter died down after a while, and thoughts made their way back into their heads; memories of other fun times, or the last occurrence of such foolishness. It was so very nice to feel like a child for once; to find a stranger of the same age, and to talk, and then to play like they had been friends for years, oblivious to anything else in the world. An eternity could have passed, and the children would play the same, regardless, not aging in mind nor spirit. Blue and brown eyes looked up at the sky, imagining if there had been clouds, what they would be shaped like, or if maybe they could find some wild flowers to make into bracelet, of course, they could always just make it themselves if they didn't find any…

Hyden was, of course, the first to sit up, pull out his wand, and begin to grow flowers in the grass beside him; Daisies, to be exact. Their little white petals appeared from grass blades, blooming in rapid motion not too far off from a sped up picked them, and began to weave them together with his hands, twisting one stem around another, and then that one around another, and the first around another.

Cygnus sat up alongside him, using his hands, he cast vapor into the air. Nothing happened at first, but before long, it all condensed and a white, perfectly puffy cloud, just a little too close to the ground, formed. He looked it over a moment, taking in its shape like an inkblot.

"Look," he said to Hyden at last. "It's a rabbit."

Hyden looked over from his weaving. He was almost done with his bracelet. "I don't see it." Cygnus pointed to the front of the cloud.

"See here? This is the tail" He pointed to the bottom, "the legs," and then pointed to the top, "and this is the head." Hyden had all the flowers he needed weaved in. Now all he needed was a wrist to put it around.

"Oh, I see it now." Hyden held out his hand and ordered, "Let me see your wrist." With great pleasure, Cygnus gave Hyden his wrist, and Hyden wrapped his flower bracelet around it, twisting the stems this way and that, then pulled out his wand and cast a spell to make sure it stayed, at least for a day or two. Hyden smiled at his work.

"Perfect."

Cygnus really looked at him, and saw for the first time. Hyden was the part of himself that he was missing; the childish, positively brilliant part that he had been forced to leave behind as a child. This was his new friend.

"Absolutely perfect." Cygnus added.

* * *

Here he was again. The Minister really was starting to grow a bit tired of this office instead of out and about like he used to be, sitting here 24 hours a day seven days a week, it seemed. Obviously, that was an exaggeration, since he needed time to sleep, and maybe a day off if he was lucky, but usually he came in to work anyway. So really, the seven days a week part is true, but the 24 hours part is not.

He was thankfully done with those foolish people and their desires to attend a certain party on May the 2nd ( _and not to mention the pure obsession they had with their hero, Mr. Potter_ ). Really, every single one of the appointments had been absolutely pointless, and wasteful, and just plain odd. Of course, he would have some lovely stories to tell later on, as conversation jokes. Really, he did have a great one to tell.

A man had come in ( _not to long after the man who said he was Harry's father, alive and well_ ) in normal clothes, nothing Potter-like about him at all. The Minister was sure his secretary had been mistaken when she had told him that the man was here to complain about the celebration. He wasn't rich, or poor, just in the middle. He had blonde hair, and brown eyes, nothing too off about this man at all.

The Minister had gestured to the chair before him, and the man sat down in a perfect, orderly fashion. He gave a professional smile and asked him

"What may I help you with today?" He thought that maybe the man was here for a more important matter. Of course, the Minister didn't care, as long as he stayed polite, like the others had not been.

"Well, Minister, it seems that I was sent the wrong message."

"Oh? What message were you to have received then, and what did you receive instead?"

"I was to attend the one year anniversary of the Dark Lord's demise in a few days. I had signed up, and so I expected to receive my formal invitation that I would take to get in, but it seems that I was sent the wrong letter, as this one says I was not invited. I signed up on the list, and I need my invitation," he held out his hand to the Minister, "if you please."

The Minister's smile fell a bit. "I'm terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but that list you signed up on was a request list. There still had to be approving done, otherwise anyone could be able to attend the party. The message you received was not by mistake."

The man stared blankly at the Minister, like the words had not made it quite to his brain. "Oh no, I did get the wrong letter. I signed up to be invited, not rejected."

"Yes, but not everyone was taken. Only a few were accepted to attend the May 2nd celebration." The man nodded vigorously.

"Yes, yes, I know. I signed up for that. I was supposed to get the acceptance letter." He obviously was not getting the picture, and so the Minister tried to approach from a different angle.

"Only people with ties to Harry Potter were accepted. Do you have any ties?" The man looked confused, but smiled.

"Of course, I've got one right here." He held up the red and grey striped tie that hung from his neck, "See? I have a tie. I should be accepted." The minister held his forehead in his palm and grumbled inside his mind.

"No. What I mean is relationships. Do you have any sort of connection to Harry Potter?"

"Oh" the man looked startled, "No, no, no. I'm not like that. I don't have relations with men." There was a moment of silence as the Minister stared at the man in disbelief.

"Connections" he repeated, "Connections." The man thought for a moment.

"I could send him an owl if you like, to keep connected with him. I'll be sure to tell him I don't want to have any relations with him." The Minister stayed calm, but he knew the man really was hardheaded.

"Are you any sort of family member of Mr. Potter's?"

"No" said the man, shaking his head.

"Are you friends with Mr. Potter?"

"No" he said again.

"Then, I apologize, but you cannot be allowed into the celebration, sir."

"But, I signed up!" The Minister looked down at his desk in thought, but then smiled to himself as an idea came into his mind. Oh, of course…he would make sure this man got what he wanted.

"Oh! You signed up? Well, that changes everything. You can't be seen attending the May 2nd celebration.  _You_  should attend the May  _3_ _rd_ celebration." The man smiled and nodded.

"Yes, thank you."

"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir." The man just smiled and waved, and left. The Minister was surprised that any man could be so gullible. At this very moment, his secretary walked into his office once again. He sighed out of habit and said "Who is next?" before she could say anything. She winced. She knew he was stressed about the celebration. She had insisted that he let the planner take care of all the complaints, but like usual, he handled the hard work himself.

"I was wondering if I could go on my lunch break, actually."

"Ah, yes. Of course. Have a nice lunch." He shooed her off with a smile and a gesture of his hand and pulled some papers out of his desk and began writing. He looked so busy…she hated to disturb him. She left quietly, leaving the Minister to finish his work in peace.

* * *

**Draco's POV:**

I was beyond frustrated. I wanted nothing more but to send a  _ **Bombarda**_  at this stupid and useless object, but of course, I couldn't. It was attached to me. I pulled, and tugged, and cast a weak and wandless  _ **Finite Incantatem**_ , but nothing seemed to work. I feared for my future. My father had wanted to further discuss what I was to say at the celebration on May 2nd, and so I was meeting him in the dining hall in a few minutes, and yet this  _thing_  was preventing me from doing so. It was just my luck that I would get into a situation like this.

_So_  many things ran through my mind, all running into each other and going around and around in circles.  _I can't let him see this because he would beat me, but who cares if he does because then I would have a reason to move out, but then I'm sure he wouldn't let me, but then again I thought he hated me, because that is a good reason to beat people, but of course, I could wear a long sleeve shirt over it, but my only clean long sleeve shirt is my red one, and it does not match my almost-black blue pants, so he's going to see it if I go, but I can't go because he would beat me…_

There was a knock at my door, loud and furious; I almost feared that my door would crash in on itself.

"Draco!" It was, of course, my father.

"What in Merlin's name is keeping you so long? Dinner is ready and we have much to discuss. I will not stand for this tardiness in my domain." I was running around, thinking of something, anything, that would save me from this. Being a Slytherin, I was usually good at that sort of thing, but the pressure to succeed in such little time was too much, and my brain turned to mush.

"Draco! How dare you keep me waiting!" His anger did not make his voice louder, but more sharp, and precise, like a blade that's purpose in life was to cut through body until it reached my very soul. "Come out here immediately!"

I thumped my forehead in a realization of an obvious solution, then cast a quick wandless spell to make my sleeves long. I opened the door sheepishly and looked up at my father. His face was beginning to turn the color of fire; yellow at the edges, but red in the middle. His head seemed to shake while he kept a quite but fierce tone.

"You should know better than to  _ever_  keep me waiting. Do you know how important this celebration is? The whole Malfoy name in on the line. You should be ashamed of disgracing our name, the name  _I_  gave to you!" I put up my arm in sort of a defensive move, because I knew his hand would be swinging at any moment. He grabbed my wrist, and prepared to slap me with his other hand, but froze at what he felt holding onto my wrist. He lowered his hand slowly and used it to pull back my sleeve. I tried to yank it away, but his grip was firm and I could not budge his hands. With my wrist fully exposed, his grey eyes, ice cold with rage, pierced me.

"What is this?" Really, I would rather he had slapped me. Nothing would get me into more trouble with my father than what he was staring at right now, that is, if I told the truth about it.

"It's quite obvious what it is." I said, not able to hold back my natural tongue. He slapped me anyway. My cheek burned red, with a feeling of a million tiny needles pricking my skin every second.

"Tell me what this is. Look at me!" I looked up, red cheeked and red brimmed eyes, to the helpless thing that still clung to my wrist.

"What is this?" he pointed to the only thing that had made me truly happy in the awful, bland days I had been here. A tear spilled over, and I confessed, looking at the innocence he was destroying.

"It's a flower bracelet."


	6. Prison Cells

**Narcissa Malfoy's POV:**

For the second time today, I looked outside my tiny window in my cramped, bare room. Still, the sun was only rising, not even high enough in the sky to let light into the darkness I had watched since the sun had set the previous day. I refused to sleep in the dark, because I have learned, not only do my guards like to pick names at random and go and beat the prisoner while they sleep, but they also tease an extra meal at the door occasionally in the pitch black of night and laugh at how poor sighted and useless the prisoner inside was. Of course, nothing exciting happened during the day. The guards would laugh from behind a solid, magic-proof door that remained shut at all times with only small exceptions being food, and the occasional recess, which I always remained in my cell for.

Sometimes, I never slept during the day either.

Sometimes I slept all day and night. After the first week of my stay here, in Azkaban, I had tried to pull out all of my hair, and now, after what felt like a lifetime later, it was just at my chin. There was little I actually felt like doing. I would not eat either if I hadn't convinced myself that I did not want to starve myself. Few things kept me going now, after so long in this cell, and with the rest of my life to go, I imagined that the few things would no longer push me on as well.

Originally, everything I had owned prior to my imprisonment was my motivation, and I constantly fought with the guards, and tried to rip off my chains, and even try some wandless magic, but in the end, nothing got better, and I realized I didn't need all that. Each thing from before had left individually; first my manor, then my power, then my name, and all the pride that went with it. Nothing was left now, except for Draco and my own life. I dearly missed my son. I had been the only one to ever love him, it seems, for actually being a person, and not an heir to the Malfoy name.

I wanted nothing more than to be able to have him here, and say hello, and tell me what he has been doing, and how much he enjoys life; that's all I ever wanted for him, to love the life he has. I had never, though, been the one in charge of what happened to him, as Lucius had taken that job upon himself, and left me to care for him, like a nanny rather than a mother. I had more than once refused, and in return received wounds from it. For a while, I was alright with Lucius deciding things for Draco.

That is, until Draco was receiving similar injuries and bruises as I had.

My eyes flung open and light now spilt from the small window onto the hard, cold floor of my cell, but not flooding it, which is what it desperately needed ( _along with a thorough cleaning_ ). I hadn't realized that I had been nodding off, and now I stood up to prevent it from occurring again. Outside of my cell, I could hear the guards laughing at some poor other prisoner, taunting him, and beating him it sounded like. I covered my arms, feeling a cold draft over them, and decided to sit in the corner of my cell closest to the door, so if the guards opened it, I might have a chance at shutting it before they came in. Really, other than verbal and physical abuse, the prison wasn't all that bad as consequences for the most rotten and awful wizards out there.

Really, I could think of many people who deserved worse than this, but were only a few cells down from my own. With the Dementors gone, the terrifying reputation of Azkaban had vanished, and many thought they could escape now. Every day, it seemed, I would hear shouts outside my window, and look to see some criminals trying to escape, then get caught in the odd protection charm that was over the entire island, and the guards would retrieve them and put them back into their cells.

Every day, I would listen, through the small crack in the wall, into my neighboring cell, hearing the man inside talking to himself, planning how to get around the barrier. At first, he had plans that would seem like they would work, but as he tried them, they failed, and he would redraw them, and again he would get caught. Then more and more, they were becoming ridiculous, and completely unrealistic. Last night, his plan involved a wrench, a Pegasus, and a shovel.

Of course, he would never get his hands on even one of those things, especially the Pegasus. The prison had once known to make people mad because the Dementors would suck all the happiness out of the prisoners, but now, the prison itself was able to suck the sanity out of them. They could very well be happy, but the worst sort of insanity to occur happens when one is happy inside a prison. Yet I agreed with almost every single person's presence in the dreadful prison, for they had all tried to escape, and they all had plans of mutiny, and they all had done the appropriate crimes to be here, and they wanted nothing more than to be free and do them once more. I, however, did not belong here in the slightest.

Lucius, that bastard, had put me in here, whether directly or not. After the war, Lucius had decided we should go into hiding as a family, but of course, changed his mind when he thought of leaving our manor. We were, of course, found very easily, and put on trial for being Death Eaters. Lucius, the first to speak, told my story of lying to The Dark Lord, but with himself in my place. I was appalled, but I loved him so and did not want him to go to Azkaban, so when they finally put me up to trial, I told them the truth: that I had never been a Death Eater, but merely supported Lucius' being one by being at his side.

Poor Draco went on trial last, but was easily and quickly found not guilty, since he spoke of his fear of the Dark Lord, and how he was not able to do a single thing he had been told by him. At the end of the trial, Lucius too was found not guilty. As much as he would like to refuse it, however, I saw him whispering to the panel, and they made shocked faces, and Lucius pretended to look frightened, and the next thing I know, I was found guilty. After Draco was found not guilty, he had left to make a new life for himself, and I had hopeful wishes that he would be successful in doing so, and that I may have encouraged him. Of course now, I had no chance of ever seeing him again, because the sentence of a Death Eater ( _or rather just simply supporting the Dark Lord and his causes, in my case_ ) was a lifetime.

There was a pounding at my door, and I was startled out of my sleep.

"Hey, Mrs. Malfoy, we gotcha breakfast here." A guard opened the door, and I almost slammed it back in his face, but my will was too weak, and he walked inside holding a bowl very much like I imagine a dog's would look like.

"It's your favorite" he said with a wicked grin, "Mushed Mystery. But what are you willing to do for it?"

I did nothing but stare at him, keeping my expression blank. The last time I had eaten was lunch yesterday, because the guard hadn't wanted to waste time teasing me when he could be with the other guards beating another prisoner before he got his meal. They made us do humiliating things to get our meals usually. Last night, for dinner, he had wanted me to get on my hind legs and beg like a dog, but I had no energy to do so, and so I did not get my meal.

"Aw, come one Mrs. Killjoy, you don't want your breakfast? Come on, today, all you have to do is rollover. Come on, girl, roll over." He spoke in an irritating voice that one would use to speak to a baby, or a pet.

As much as I did not want to starve, the ground tugged at my limbs, threatening to pull me through the floor if I so much a breathed too heavy. But as I looked at the man, I noticed he kept his wand in his back pocket, left side. I looked down for a moment, feeling a rush of adrenaline for even thinking about taking it.

"All right then," the guard said, "no breakfast for you" and turned to leave.

"No!" I said. It had been the first time I had spoken in a few weeks, so my voice was rough, and raspy, but he heard me. He smiled and turned back to me.

"Then roll over girl.  _Come on…_ " he patted his knee with his free hand, "roll over."

I crawled from the corner just enough so I would be able to move, and I tilted so I would fall on my back and roll back over. When my back hit the floor, a sharp pain soared through my back, but I finished the roll and looked up at the guard, whose wicked grin had returned.

"Very good!" he said, continuing to mock me.

"I knew you could do it. That's a good girl." He patted my head, and I thought for a slit second about biting him, but thought better of it. I didn't know where his hand had been, and I was sure I did not want to find out.

"Now, beg."

I sighed inside and got on my hind legs, and whimpered like a dog would.

"Good girl. Now, up. Get your food with your teeth."

Now was my chance. I crawled over to the guard, got up on my knees, and tried to bite the bowl he was holding in his hands, while reaching for his back pocket carefully.

"Oh no," he said, "The bowl's getting higher. You better get it fast" as he raised the bowl just barely out of my reach. I

slowly slid the wand out of his pocket, and simultaneously bit at the air between the bowl and my mouth. Once the wand was free, I slipped it into the leg of my pants and continued to try and reach the bowl.

"Oh, so close that time. Here, you can have it." He dropped the bowl over to the side of where I was biting air, and it fell, spilling some of the Mushed Mystery onto the floor. The guard laughed at my disgust, and left my cell.

I didn't know quite what to do then. It had been so long since I there had been a wand in my hand, but I was sure I could do something. Escape wasn't really my plan, not at all. Other prisoners had stolen wands, and tried to escape, but they all had failed. I did not want to give the guards a reason to think I belonged here, because I most certainly did not, by trying and failing to escape, but I absolutely hated everything about this place.

I pulled the wand out of my pants and looked it over. It was some sort of light wood, but being no wand maker, I had no idea what type of wood it was, much less what type of core the wand held. I took the handle in my right hand and pointed the tip at my unfortunate breakfast mess, imagining it to turn into some bread and wine, and flicking my wrist how I believed I should.

A red glass and a plate of warm bread appeared where once had been Mushed Mystery, and I inspected them to make sure I had done everything correctly. The bread was, thankfully, bread. When I tasted a sip of the wine, it turned out to be punch, but I did not care. I ate my breakfast happy, thinking for a moment I might actually be insane for being happy in a prison.

* * *

**Draco's POV:**

I had just sat on my bed since sunrise had begun to show its face through my large window, breaking any chance holding onto sleep. Not that it really mattered when I was awake or when I was asleep. Either way, I would have 3 plentiful meals, which were never really too appealing to me, and so I usually took the bread and sent the rest back for the elves to eat  _(they never had a good meal, and I felt bad for wasting food by having them throw it away_ ). My father had told them to make sure I ate at every meal, and so I did, but to my relief either my father didn't care how much I ate, or the elves did not tell him how little it really was. It's one thing to get beaten for sneaking out, but another entirely to be beaten for not eating. I really had lost my appetite. Being in the same room every day of your life with all the entertaining bits removed, staring around at the walls like it was a movie, and listening to your breathing like it was music; it took a toll on your sanity.

I didn't dare ask my father how long I would be trapped; I feared him too much to hear his answer, and so I assumed that I would be here for the rest of my life. I would still send letters to Hermione, but they just weren't the same as seeing her concerned brown eyes and tamed brown hair trying to convince me to leave this awful house as soon as I could. Writing does not convey that which can only be expressed through voice, and it very much lacks the humanity of conversation. Really, it is just the means to pass information, not at all to keep a person company. I could no longer have Hermione over. My father had caught traces of her being in my room when I was lying on the floor and he saw two indentions in my bed where two people had sat earlier, and he knew someone else had been here. Along with my fading bruise on my cheek and wrist, I now had fresh, plum colored ones on my upper right arm and left middle back.

 _How is it possible to make such bruises in one beating_  you ask? Well, when my father had come into the room, I had stood up immediately, and when he saw it, he pushed me against the wall, where I hit my head and became dizzy, and then pulled me back up by my arm to yell at me and threaten to kick me out again, to which I begged him not to do, almost letting tears fall, but I stopped myself. There would be no beating worse than the one he would give me if he saw me crying.

" _Malfoys do not cry!_ " he would say.

" _You are so weak! No son of mine shall be this weak!_ " I really didn't care if I was a son of his or a son of some hobo in a London street. In fact, I might even pick the hobo.

There was a knock at my door. I didn't answer it, but the house elf helped themselves into my room.

"Here be young Mr. Malfoy's breakfast, sir," it squeaked, placing a cup of tea on my bedside table. I looked over as it held up the plate full of food that I usually would have loved, but my stomach felt like it would lurch up anything that I put into it. I took a bagel off the tray and mouthed, "You have the rest," to the elf. It smiled and bowed so low that its nose scraped across the floor.

"Thank you, young Mr. Malfoy."

With that, it left the room. I wrinkled my nose at the bagel and put it on my bedside table ( _which really was more of a small dining room table that was the height of my bed_ ). I wasn't hungry, even more so than normal. I got up out of bed and got ready for the day, though there was no point in that either, since I had nowhere to go or anyone to impress. I didn't even want to impress myself, which is highly odd for me. I looked through my vast wardrobe, thinking of something I could put on that would make my day better. Unfortunately, I was all out of super fun clothes that bring friends to talk to and had a spare wand in its pocket. Even if those existed, I was more than sure that my father would have taken them out, just especially for me. After all my life, I was pretty sure my father hated me. He always beat me, and shouted insults to undermine me whenever he could, and just generally made my life a living hell.

 _That sounds familiar…_  I told myself. I thought about it as I put on a comfy pair of pants and a muggle shirt I had bought while out shopping once with Hermione.

 _Hurting me…insults…living hell…fucking Merlin…_  I finally realized that is exactly what I did to Potter through our years together at Hogwarts.

 _He must really hate me. But I love him…_  That could be what my father means by all his viciousness. He loves me, and just wants me to be safe. He could have been really worried when I snuck out; What if someone had kidnapped me? He might have been concerned about people mistreating me at the celebration, so he put a bruise on my face to make sure they pitied me instead. Of course, all this was about as likely as Dumbledore and the Dark Lord coming back to life and becoming the best of friends, complete with competitive wizard chess games, eating all the hard candies their gums could handle, and yelling at children to get off their grass, just like old people should be. Really, that whole idea was so absolutely ridiculous; I couldn't believe I had even thought of it.

 _My father caring about my well-being…I_ must _be going mad…_  Of course, I had already figured I had started to go mad. Each day I only became more absolutely positive. It was like being in a padded room, in a straightjacket. There was nothing new to look at but blankness and gross familiarity, with the added handicap of not having a wand only made it more unbearable. It made me wonder why in the world muggles ever thought that was the thing to do with insane people. It would only make the insane person more so. Logic, though it may try and make sense of it, cannot explain it because it is inexplicably stupid. Logic would tell us, "Would you put a serial killer in a prison where they have to share a cell with people? Would you put an incredibly fat person into a room filled with cakes and various desserts that they should not eat?" and our answers would be "No", and Logic would then say "Then why do something like this? It's the exact same thing."

 _I'm thinking too much again,_  I told myself. I lied down on my bed and sighed, lifting the covers over me, and then cup of tea from my bedside, being sure I wouldn't spill a drop. Judging by the smell of it, which was an odd mix of fruity pine, malt, flowers, and almost a sort of citrus, it was my favorite breakfast tea that my mother called Golden Mooned Morning. I could still see steam rising from the cup in little wisps that always reminded me of fog. I pursed my lips and blew into the drink to cool it off. The surface rippled, with a rather large indent in it from the pointed air. I ran out of breath, and once the surface settled, I became keenly aware of my reflection staring back at me from the bonny, Cimmerian tea, surrounded by steam. I inhaled and blew once again, watching the liquid become disrupted once more from its calmness and the steam vanish into the air like it had suddenly found itself a cloak of invisibility.

Stopping, I saw the surface quake but a mere few seconds before settling again, revealing my face in its depths with new steam arriving from the surface, surrounding my face again and giving my fading bruise an ominous grey color that reflected awfully to my eyes. I raised the cup to my lips and sipped, feeling the warmth run down my throat and down into my stomach comfortably. The feeling spread through my body, making me uncomfortably warm being underneath my covers. I carefully placed the tea back down beside my bed, and lifted the covers off me, but making no move to sit up.

What would the point of getting up be? What good could possibly come of it? Absolutely none. It was better for me to just lie in bed all day and stay out of any possible shenanigans that I could get into. That's what my father expected of me. And my mother hadn't done anything to stop it, so I assume she must be preoccupied with something or other. It was so unusual for her to be so busy this long, but then again, I had no idea how much time had passed. It seemed like I had been trapped inside my own room for months upon months, but of course, I was sure that the celebration hadn't been too long ago…

I was very than certain that I was going to die in this very room. Yes, it seems like quite a depressing thought, but when the thought actually occurs inside your head that you will be sitting inside a room so long doing nothing that you will die there, it's quite comforting knowing that it will all come to an end and that it won't just go on forever. In all honesty, it was more than comforting. Anything seemed better than deteriorating my mental abilities any further, having the occasional visit from my father who would literally try and smack some sense into me. I was rapidly entering a period of madness where I would plan my escape of this dreadful place, and would actually want to go through with it, but the moment before I would do it, something would show me how awful the plan was, and how I would inevitably get caught, and beaten. Now, my plans were getting more and more impossible to go through with.

A little person in my head would ask me,  _"Draco, where in Merlin are you going to get enough magic ability to do that?"_  or  _"Draco, how on Earth do you plan to get past your father's office?"_  or  _"Draco, why for the love of all that is magically possible did you plan to cut a hole in the wall of your bedroom if you could just as easily use the door?"_  or worst of all  _"Draco, who in the world do you think you are? Godric Gryffindor? You cannot just waltz up to your father and punch him in the face then run out the door!"_ Today, the plans once again occurred in my mind.

 _All I have to do is wait until my father checks up on me again, hide in my closet, and then when he doesn't expect it, I run out of my room. When he is chasing after me, I drop some marbles behind me so that he trips over all of them and I can have enough time to run out the door._ I stood up and searched my room for any marbles that I might own by chance. Though I usually would never be caught with anything muggle, I had gotten them to practice my wandless magic. They could spin in crazy orbits inside my palm now, and I had grown bored with them over time, and placed them somewhere in my room. I searched and searched, but did not find them.

" _Pity, Draco, that you can't go through with your plan. Really, it's as brilliant as any plan could possibly be. If, of course, the planner was seven! Honestly Draco? Marbles to trip him? Is that all you can think of?"_  I sighed and slumped back beside my bed.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there; seconds, minutes, hours. Really, if I hadn't noticed the light from the window, I would have expected weeks to go by. The only measurement of time passing was my breathing. Really, it was all I could do. I was afraid that if I stopped breathing, that time would stop, and that it would never go on, and I would never see the end. I didn't want this to go on for eternity. I don't think I could handle that. And so, I kept breathing, never daring to pause for even a fraction of a second. Fear pierced my heart at the thought that if I stopped for just one moment, one millisecond, that it was all over. I started inhaling before I had finished exhaling, and then exhaling before I had finished inhaling. My breathing became more and more shallow, and begun to speed up with fear. I couldn't stop. I had to breathe. I couldn't let the world pause. I had to keep breathing. That was it. Breathing.

 _Breathe_.

In and out. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. In. In. In…

No, too much in, not enough out. My brain panicked. I had stopped breathing. Had the world stopped? No, it couldn't stop. It had to go on. It can't stop. I need to breathe. But I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned. I need to breathe. My throat was stopped. Start breathing! My eyes watered. For Merlin's sake, BREATHE! I couldn't move. The world was in a stand-still. I had done it. It was all over. I was stuck here. For all eternity. No more breathing.

BREATHE, DRACO, BREATHE!

My head had hit the side of my bed and I was startled awake. I was clammy and covered with sweat, shaking and struggling to breathe. What had happened? I looked around my too familiar room and noticed that the sun had set. I had fallen asleep. It had all just been a nightmare. I slumped over on my side and laid my head on the cold floor. My shoulder happened to land on something that made a very uncomfortable impression, so I had to sit back up and see what it was. My hand grazed the floor, and finally picked up six round marbles; all green or black or grey, even if I couldn't see them in the darkness. I felt around once more on the floor. I had seven marbles, not six. I was missing one; a red one, to be exact; the only one I had. My hand went underneath my bed, and sure enough, felt a small round sphere. I picked it up and let it join the others. Seven marbles in my hand; three green ones, two black ones, one grey one, and one red one, all in a bunch in my hand. At my will, they floated into the air just above my palm, moving into a perfect circle. I separated them by color; a triangle in midair of green, a short line of black, and two lonely spheres of grey and red. The colors had always disturbed me. I had gotten these with the approval of the Dark Lord, whom had chosen the colors out for me when I was younger for the purpose of practice in magic with them.

" _The green ones,"_  he had told me,  _"can represent your family. Your father, your mother, and you. The black ones, will represent your loyalty to me. Your father and you, in the future. This grey one here is me. And when there is a grey one, it must always be accompanied with red"_  and then an evil smile had come over his face. I had tried to change the colors, but somehow or another, they always changed back to their original color. Grey, and green, and black, and red; all in a circle, one accompanied with the others, never really able to be separated, no matter how hard one tried. I allowed the marbles to go into a sort of atom shape, with one as the center, with all the others revolving around it. As usual, the grey held steady in the center, letting the green, black, and red encircle it in a dance in which they did not control. I willed them to change into a different pattern, where the marbles lined in two lines across from each other. A green across from a black, then a green across from a green, the grey across from the red, and then a black in the very middle with the row of two green ones. With them all lined up, in order and unmoving in the air, I finally made my decision.

The marbles floated over and fell onto my bed as I crossed the room to my wardrobe. I stepped inside, not caring how dark it was because I knew every inch of it by memory. Walking over to the right corner farthest from the entrance, where I kept my vacation clothes, I pulled a bag from behind a long pair of pants. I opened the bag and walked around my wardrobe, filling it with various outfits I would need, then stepped out of my wardrobe and crossed to my bathroom and filled the little remaining space with my toiletries. I went back over to my bed and stuffed my pillows underneath the covers, and tucked them so that it looked as though it was me under them, holding the blanket over my head. Grabbing a piece of parchment and self-inking quill, I jotted a quick note.

_Just leave me the bread and tea. You can have the rest._

I picked up my bagel from earlier and sat my note in its place. I looked at it for a moment, then finally decided I did not want to eat it, and shoved it into my bag, just in case. Grabbing the rings off my bedside table, I put them all on, even the silver one with one green and one black stone that read in haunting letters,  _"to be or not to be."_  I was ready. All I needed was to open the window, which of course, would be locked so that only magic could open it.

I called to the marbles, and they flung themselves into the window, each getting stuck midway through the glass leaving large fault lines in it. The window was obviously made to not shatter. I pulled out the red marble, and poked the hole that had been left from it. It was sturdy, still, around the edges, but it was definitely a perfect hole from it. I removed all the marbles, and pushed on the glass as hard as I could with my free hand. The glass did not shatter, as I thought it might have, but instead was pulled lose from the frame, and fell onto the grass far below my second story window, making nothing but a whoosh from air passing through it and around it and a soft thud after reaching the ground. I grabbed my bag, pulled the long strap around my shoulder, and pulled my legs through the frame.

"I guess this is goodbye, Paisley." The shining black mass that was my invisible, miniature dragon twisted until I could see shining silver eyes stick out through the darkness.

"Don't worry, Draco. I'll see you again."

And I jumped.

Weightlessness, sadly, was only a temporary feeling. As many people say, you don't die from falling off the top of the building, but from the impact at the bottom. As my feet hit the grass, my ankle gave way under me, and I crumpled. Hot pain seared up my calf. I hadn't broken it, but it wasn't exactly perfect for a long trek either. Trying to be as gentle and easy as I could, I stood back up, bag over my shoulder, marbles in hand. I realized, looking at the ground, that my foot had landed right on top of the glass, and slipped, causing it to twist in a painful sort of way. I limped away, already knowing where I was headed.

Through the forest, past trees with my engravings on them saying "Malfoy was here" or "DM", then over a small creek where I used to find toads and try and give them more warts than they already had, past a park where my mother had taken me once or twice when I was a small child that was always deserted these days, and finally to a large field with tall grasses that swayed in the night air and glistened with what little light the mischievous crescent moon had to offer.

I pulled my bag off my shoulder and dropped it onto the ground, inhaling the lovely scent of fresh air and freedom.

 _I'm home,_  I thought.  _After all that time in prison, I'm finally home._


	7. Childish Love

**Harry's POV:**

My eyes suddenly burst open, and light poured into them, temporarily blinding me. I quickly shut my eyes again and at rubbed them.

 _That was the oddest good dream that I've ever had._  After a few seconds, I tried opening my eyes again and found everything to be blurry, but not painfully bright. I reached over to my nightstand and pulled my glasses off them and pushed them onto my face. Everything drew into focus. I was in my room at Hogwarts. I yawned and stretched my arms out, then relaxed and sat up and reached for my journal. ( _Now, don't make fun of me for this, but_ …) Hermione suggested that after Voldemort died that I record every dream I have. Really, it was just to make sure that he wasn't alive anymore, as when he was alive, I would see into what he was doing and my scar would hurt and whatnot. Really, I found it rather dumb, and I wouldn't use it all the time, but other times I would remember and write something down in it, especially if it was really weird. Did I mention the journal also likes to take liberties in trying to interpret my dreams? That is mostly the reason I try not to use it so often.

_I had been sitting in a pool of water looking around me, and seeing Cygnus frowning and holding up his flower bracelet on his wrist. He looked at it for a moment, and then one flower fell off, and all the flowers came apart, slowly falling down to the ground. Once they hit the ground, they crumpled into ashes. When I looked up again, there were Ron and Hermione, smiling at me like they always do. Then Draco walked up behind them, with his purple bruise on his face, smiling too, just like they were. I heard his voice repeat all around me saying "I wish I could take it all back…take it all back…" and then Hermione, Ron, and Draco faded away. I looked down to the water and saw my reflection. I looked like any normal person for a moment, and then the water rippled, and my reflection changed into Hyden, who smiled back at me. Then the water splashed me, and I woke up._

I read it over again, to make sure I had gotten everything right, then nodded to myself. I was about to close it when I saw words seeping onto the margins of the page.

_Pool:  
To see a pool of water in your dream indicates that you need to acknowledge and understand your feelings. It is time to dive in and deal with those emotions. Alternatively, a pool indicates your desire to be cleansed. You need to wash away the past._

_Bracelet:_  
To see or wear a bracelet in your dream refers to an expression of deep passion and fire. The dream is also a sign that you need to rekindle old friendships and to call up an old friend that you haven't heard from in a while.  
To see a broken bracelet in your dream suggests that you tend to sacrifice your own comfort and happiness for others.

_Ashes:  
To see ashes in your dream signifies bitter changes and disruptions. Ashes may represent a failed relationship or a ruinous business enterprise. You feel that the good times are over and nothing of value is left in your life. Alternatively, ashes may mean that you are dwelling too much on the past. You need to learn to let go._

_Smile:  
To dream that you or others are smiling means that you are pleased with your achievements and approve of the decisions you have made. You will be rewarded for the good things you have done for others. Alternatively, a smile indicates that you are in search of something or someone that will make you happy_

_Purple:  
Purple is the color of royalty, high rank, justice, wealth and dignity_

_Repeat:  
To dream that something is repeating indicates that there is some message that you need to ingrain in your mind. Perhaps you are trying to memorize something. Alternatively, the dream refers to the monotony and routine of your daily life. You need to get out of the rut._

_Reflection:_  
To see your reflection in your dream represents your true self; it is time to look within. The reflection may highlight both your flaws and positive attributes. Learn from your flaws and how to improve them. At the same time, appreciate your good qualities. Alternatively, your reflection indicates how you want others to perceive you.  
If you see a strange figure or something other than your own reflection, then it suggests that you are undergoing some identity crisis. You are not sure about who you are anymore.

_Splash_ _**:** _ _  
To dream that you are being splashed by water means that you need to be more expressive with your feelings. It also indicates your need to be revitalized._

Usually after reading the journal's comments, I snorted and put the book away, thinking of how absolutely off it was, but this time, at least some of the interpretations were spot on.

 _Maybe I do need to wash away the past. I really do sacrifice myself a lot. It's really hard to let go of an evil wizard who murdered all my family in some way or another, and yes, I am pleased in my achievement of killing him. Oh yes, high rank and justice for the bruised Draco. Yes, I realize I need to get out of my rut. Well, when one receives a new alias, one does have some sort of identity crisis. And how much more expressive can I be with my feelings? I wrote them down in this book. Isn't that enough?_  I sighed and put the journal back in its place on my nightstand. Really, I had been through a bit lately. Not nearly as much in the past, but a small sum; mostly petty things. Either way, I rather despised drama in general. It was pointless, and a complete waste of energy.

That was my life now.  _"That takes too much energy", "I'm tired", "Do I have to get up?"_  I just felt so drained all the time. Not that I used to be a bundle of energy, but I used to put effort into things, mostly through aggravation and anger. That was the thing. I had nothing worth putting any energy into, therefore I used no energy at all. There was nothing to fight for, nothing to be irritated with, nothing to argue about, nothing to be excited about; just nothing. Life was one sluggish blur of night and day that cycled on forever; no telling what day was which. Not that I had to know what day it was anymore.

I sighed and gave up thinking for the day. Really, I was getting nowhere, fast. I got up and went to the loo quick before turning on the water in the shower and stripping. I got in and felt the hot water pelt and scorch my back as steam rolled off and filled the room like fog. Tears stung the back of my eyes at the magnitude of heat of the water, but I felt the dire need to rid of the top layer of my skin since it felt so filthy that it was beyond cleaning. Obviously, it wasn't really filthy; I showered every day.

That journal was just getting to me. But it didn't shake the feeling off of me, and I noticed how absolutely red my skin was becoming, but I could not care less. I closed my eyes and imagined my past being burned off my skin, and rolling down the drain, heading to the great unknown, leaving nothing but small traces behind. It hurt to let it go, with the stinging drops continuing to singe me, and I opened my eyes suddenly. The water fell off me in drops, and then created a stream to the drain and disappeared. It was a moment before it hit me that I was losing myself in that water. Suddenly, I wanted it all back. I needed all of the pain, suffering, and anger back; it was what made me Harry Potter, and not just some guy. I quickly turned off the water and watched as the remaining water drops ran after its brothers, trying to catch up to them.

After drying off, I was hesitant to decide on something to wear. All of the shirts and pants that I had, I had bought myself, with the exception of a couple knitted sweaters from Mrs. Weasley. Did I really want to wear something that I always wore? Not really, but did I really have much of a choice at this point? I was butt naked with nothing but a towel on; I couldn't very well go and buy something right now. I sighed and decided on a comfortable shirt and jeans.

 _Fucking Merlin…_  I sat on my bed and put my hands over my face. I really was letting the journal run my life. I felt as if my insides were going to explode out my eyes. Where the bloody hell was all this emotion coming from? I didn't need this. I focused on my breathing to calm down, breathing in slowly and then out. Before long, I fell back asleep.

I was no longer lying in my bed, but in a field of grass, looking up at a pale blue, endless sky. I could feel the breeze saunter past, carrying the scent of fresh air that I could only enjoy. I smiled to myself and inhaled deeply, trying to savor the moment. I exhaled and my neck relaxed, letting my head fall to my left. Between the blades of tall grass, I saw almost-white blonde hair poking out. I sat up, trying to get a better look, but there was nothing in the depths of the field. I looked to my right and saw Sirius standing there, a smile on his face so familiar, matching the many he had given me, as well as the one he had worn in the picture of him as my parents' best man. I stood and ran to him, threw my arms around him like a small child, and hugged him with all my might. He laughed, and so did I. He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Harry, I just want you to know how proud I am of you. How proud your father and mother are of you. Not just for what you've done, but for keeping yourself in the process." I half grinned. I had heard it millions of times, but the words had never meant as much as they did now.

Sirius looked at me a moment, telling me bad news without saying anything. I nodded in reply and stepped back. He had to go from me now, but it was not forever. There was no need for any goodbyes as he vanished and I looked back out to the field I was standing in. It looked so familiar, but for some odd reason I couldn't remember when exactly I had visited it. But honestly, I didn't care. I put my hands in the air high above my head and ran, feeling the wind through my hair, laughing all the while, feeling ridiculous, but free. I started turning in circles, the world whizzing wildly by me in a blur of green and blue. Suddenly, a blur of skin added itself into my impressionist world. I slowed to a stop where the blur stood. After my dizziness subsided, there stood a man, black hair, bright blue eyes, well-muscled arms, wearing a look of amused disbelief on his face. I smiled and bowed, holding out my hand for him to grab.

"Would you care to join me, Cygnus?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Of course."

He placed his hand in mine and I pulled him to me. We both smiled, our hands perfectly intertwined, and started dancing like we didn't care about the rest of the world. I shook my hips and moved our hands in circles, feeling so liberated. Cygnus let go of one of my hands, only to spin my around. We laughed and I spun him, and we laughed some more. We laughed so hard we fell to the floor, tripping over each other, and landing in the grass. After a moment, all was quiet. I lay on the grass with my eyes closed, just enjoying everything. When I opened my eyes, I saw beautiful blue sky. Looking over to Cygnus by my side, I saw that he was looking at me as well.

"You know, I don't think I've ever had this much fun, even as a child."

Cygnus smiled. "Me too." He started to get up, but instead of standing, he leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek.

My eyes opened so fast, the suddenly bright light of day hurt. I covered them with my hand and got out of bed, stumbling over my shoes and hitting my side on my bedside table. I made my way to the bathroom, running into a chair and stubbing my toe then tripping over the mess I hadn't cleaned up yet. When I finally made it to the bathroom, I used the sink to hold me up and looked into it. My eyes were a bit red and dots danced across my vision, but I could see myself clearly ( _enough_ ).

 _That was an odd dream,_  I thought, but half smiled and touched my cheek, like it had actually happened.

 _I know what I'm doing today._  I quickly got my things together, grabbed my wand, put on my ring, and disapparated.

* * *

**Cygnus's POV:**

I had been resting quite peacefully. The only thing that had woken me up was the beak that was poking at my side. It wasn't painful, just annoying. I sighed and turned over the other way ( _so I wouldn't roll onto the owl that the beak belonged to_ ). The owl ruffled its wings and did a weird sort of hop onto my chest and looked at me, turning its head to the side ever so slightly as if to say "Are you awake yet?" I rubbed at my eyes and nodded my head for no apparent reason.

"Yes, can I help you?"

The brown speckled owl hopped back off me and over to where a fairly sized package was. I picked it up and tore off the paper, revealing a note attached to a book. I decided to read the note before I opened the book ( _just in case_ ).

 _Dear Draco,  
I really do apologize that this took so long to send. You must be dreadfully bored. It took a bit longer than I expected it to take to work out all the kinks, and I had to make a potion that took quite a few days to brew, but it is working fully now. I do believe it may be very unique, as I found the recipe for it in a fairly old book, so please do take care of it (_not that I don't believe you won't, considering it may be your only source of entertainment aside from our notes _)._

_This is a book that can become any book that exists. All you do is think about what you want to read, and then open it, and it will give you a long list of books about that subject, and then if you decide to read one of them, you think about wanting to read it, then turn the page, and it will be there. I figured it would be better than getting you any old regular book. I find mine to be very useful, and entertaining when Ron and his brother decide they want to do something I have no interest in. I hope you like it._

_Sincerely,  
Hermione_

I smiled at the note and picked up the book. An endless list of possibilities sat in my hands. I could read every book in the world if I wanted to. I wished I had ink and parchment to write back to her and say how absolutely thankful I was, but I had none. I opened the book and the entire first page was covered with names of several books.

" _What to do when there is nothing: A survival guide for the average wizard"_ , " _How to summon parchment from thin air"_ , " _Advanced spells and charms: Wandless edition"_ , and  _"No paper, No Ink, No Problem: Other means of sending messages"_. They all sounded very worthy of reading, and so I decided I would read them all. I turned the page and found the title page of the first book. The next page was an introduction that lasted a few pages, and so I turned and turned the pages until I was at the beginning, and I began to read.

_Many wizards and witches are taught a simple skill of summoning parchment from across the_ _room, or out of a drawer, or even a messy desk. It's nothing out of the ordinary, not at all. But_ _once in a great while, we are all faced with the same problem: what do we do when we run out_ _of parchment? The easy answer, of course, would be to go and buy some more. But if we ever do_ _get into a situation in which no store is available, or parchment prices are quite costly to daily_ _life, wouldn't it be lovely to be able to just pull some parchment out of the air? Of course it_ _would._

I skimmed along, trying to find the part where it got to the actual summoning. I had finished skimming the first page, which ended mid-sentence, and turned the page. The page had begun on a new paragraph, and was exactly the part I was looking for.

_Of course, we assume that there will also be times when this will not be possible to do, say if you have no wand. Wandless magic is very important to learn as well when you are in such a situation where you must pull things out of thin air. It requires much practice to become successful in such a magic form, as it is different from magic with a wand. Of course, after some hard effort put forth, I'm sure that anyone can get the hang of it._

_The first step is to concentrate. A quite place without people is probably best, both to keep from distracting you as well as prevent any unnecessary injuries to extra, innocent standbys._ _Imagine as if the air is a mold from which you can make anything from. Extend your hand in front of you, palm up, and let your magic flow into your fingers, almost like you are wearing gloves made of it. Now, grab the air with your gloves and capture it between your fingers. Now with your other hand, gently smooth out your fingers to become flat, and parchment should appear right in your hand. The longer your other hand continues on off your hand, the longer the parchment will become._

It seemed fair enough. I was in a deserted place ( _minus Hermione's owl, which was quietly munching on something a little distance away_ ), perfect for concentration. I was used to the feeling of my magic inside my hands, and so, I held out my hand palm up, and easily covered my hand in it like a glove, turning it a purple color. I quickly swooped my hand through the air and grabbed as much of it as I could, then squished my fingers into my palm so it could not escape. I let my left hand push against the curled up fingers, bending them back and revealing a piece of parchment where air had once been. I let it go just to the tip of my hand, and then stopped. My newly acquired piece of parchment had the width of my left hand, and the length of my right hand. Now that I had parchment, I needed ink and a quill ( _though I really could write with my nails if it came to that_ ). I flipped the page of my book and started reading once again.

_Now that we have worked through summoning some parchment, the obvious things we need now are ink and a quill. What else could we write with? Now obviously it will be a much different experience making ink and a quill from nothing than parchment, as they will have a much more peculiar shape._

There was a skip, and then the words continued again further down the page.

_To make ink and quill wandlessly is not as easy as making a parchment. You must be very exact in your movements and be careful not to spill your ink if you do accomplish to make it. Concentration once more is very necessary. Extend your hand, palm up, and once again cover it in a glove of magic. From the position where it is, imagine how tall you would like your quill to be, and raise your hand steadily to that height. Once your hand is at that height, draw your fingers to a point above your palm. Now swiftly bring your hand back down to its original height while pulling your fingers apart. If done successfully, a bottle of ink and a quill should drop into your hand._

Nodding, I covered my hand in a purple glove of magic again. I didn't quite know how tall I wanted my quill to be, and so I raised my hand, which was just below shoulder level, to mid head level, and drew my fingers to a point. I pulled my hand down and pulled my fingers apart suddenly, only hearing the whoosh of air between my fingers. I tried again, drawing my fingers to a point at mid-head level, and pulling down my hand and opening my fingers. I heard the whoosh of air once again, and almost would have raised my hand once more to try again, but a bottle of ink startled my hand as it fell right onto my palm with a very skeletal quill in its mouth. I smiled and pulled the quill from the bottle and began to write on my parchment.

_Dear Hermione,  
Thank you so much. Really, you have no idea how much of a life saver you are._

_I don't want you to tell anyone else this, but I escaped from the manor. I couldn't take it there anymore. I packed up some clothes, my necessities, and left out my window. Really, I enjoy it so much better where I am. I still have nothing to do, but at least I am not bound to be trapped inside my room. Of course, I have nothing but what I brought and now your book. It has, of course, already proven helpful. I had no parchment, ink, or quill, and I just learned from it how to use wandless magic to make it from nothing but air. Enjoy your Draco-made parchment, written with a Draco-made quill that used Draco-made ink._

_I don't know what I'm going to do now. As much as I would love to go and work to regain my old life that I had made for myself, I am more than sure that my father would find me one way or another. And if I used my new alias, I would have to start again from scratch. I don't have any paperwork forged for Cygnus, so I have reason to believe that people would become suspicious of a person with no identification of any sort. Of course, I do have a book that could tell me how to attain these things, so I may very well start working on a new life for myself in no time._

_Sincerely,  
Draco_

I looked around for her owl and found it a little ways away, flying after something on the ground. I didn't know what they owl's name was, so I just called out, "I have my note ready." It flew over to me, looking a little annoyed, but it allowed me to tie the note to it leg. It flew off, not bothering to try and find whatever it was chasing after again.

Deciding to sit on the grass, I plopped my bottom right next to my bag. I knew I needed to change my clothes, but I didn't want to, and I was more than sure that my hair must not look so hot after sleeping in a field. I sighed and pulled my small mirror out of my bag and looked into my reflection. I realized almost at once that I was still wearing my ring, as I looked always looked perfect as Cygnus. I slid the silver ring off my finger and I could see grass stains in my almost white blonde hair  _(that was the downside to such light colored hair_ ). It looked awful, and I wished with all my might that I could have a wand. Of course, I had the ring to disguise myself and go buy one, but I had no money. I sighed and slid the ring back on.

The sun was making its way to its high point in the sky, casting bright rays of light across the field in which I sat. I took a hand through my hair, feeling the normal fineness of my blonde head, but knowing that a shield of black hair surrounded it. Looking out into the horizon, I saw endless grass swaying in a slight breeze. It was quite calming, and at the same time quite lonely. I had freed myself of that horrid mansion, but what was there to do now? The thought bubbled and circled in my mind, but drained as I heard a crack behind me.

I turned to see Hyden there, a big smile across his face, warm chocolate eyes. He waved while making his way over to me. I couldn't help but smile in return and watch his legs carry him over to me.

"Hey, Cygnus. I was hoping you would be here." He stood, looking at me sitting on the ground.

I looked up at him against the sun in the sky, his figure outlined by the light.

"What are you doing here?" I asked pleasantly.

He opened his mouth, but quickly shut it and tried again. "Well…" he shrugged, "I don't know. Just got bored, I guess." He smiled again, looking right into my eyes like he could see right through me.

"I share similar problems." I sighed and looked back down at the grass.

"What should we do?" Hyden asked, but his tone sounded like he already had an answer. He held out his hand, showing a flash of his perfectly white teeth that were no less bright than the sun itself.

He said nothing, but then again he didn't really need to. " _Take my hand"_  his body seemed to say,  _"Let's be free together"_  his grin whispered,  _"We can live carefree"_  his eyes showed. My hand, which was sitting in the grass, slowly flew into the air, crossing the distance between his, and met. My ring hit his lightly, making the ever smallest noise. I pulled myself up and our fingers intertwined naturally. We looked at one another for a mere moment, and began our frolicking.

We danced. We skipped. We were free, for once in our lives. Our feet moved in circles. Our hearts pumped to a beat. Our hands never once separated, but became one unit. All the while, the sun grew lower and lower from its throne in the sky, tired and seeking a break, and the white moon snuck onto the empty seat of power. Everything around us slowly lost its yellow beams and darkened along with the space high above our heads. We continued on, unfazed, until the moon had become the only source of light. I wished it could have lasted forever, but all dreams must come to an end.

"That was fun," Hyden laughed, his eyes reflecting the moon. "We should do this more often."

I smiled widely back at him. "Sounds terrific."

Hyden's huge smile faded into a smile one as he stared at me. "I really did have fun," he said in a serious tone I had not heard from him before.

A little taken aback by the sudden change in tone, I replied quietly, "I did, too." I hadn't noticed that our fingers had still been intertwined until Hyden pulled our hands apart. I was a little grieved about the small action, but knew it had to be done. Hyden looked down a moment, then before I even knew what was happening, soft lips met mine in a delicate kiss.

"We'll do this again," Hyden said quietly after he broke away. He pulled his wand from his pocket and disapparated without another word.


	8. Arising Problems

**Hermione's POV:**

"Hermione, I don't think you understand what I just said. I  _kissed_  him. I'm not even sure he's gay. He's probably appalled of me by now. Why would I do something so ridiculous?"

I smiled a little to myself and reassured Harry for the hundredth time.

"Harry, it's alright. He wouldn't have let you kiss him if he wasn't gay, and even if he, for some reason, isn't gay, then so what? It won't make the world end."

Harry sighed. "You don't understand, Hermione. It already feels like the end of the world."

I had to laugh at this. It was so absurd. "Harry, you've been through torture, defeating the most evil wizard in the world, coming so close to death every time, even actually dying for a bit; no parents, living with muggles who lied to you for your entire life; dealt with people thinking that you were actually siding with the Dark Lord, being kept out of a lot of the Order of the Phoenix's plans until the last minute. But  _this_  is the end of the world?"

"I don't know. This feels so much bigger than that." He sat up from his lying on the couch and looked at me. "The only reason I made it through all that was because of my friends. Cygnus was my friend, and I've ruined our friendship, all because of my stupid dream, and now I don't want to ever go back there. I'm ashamed to show my face to hi-"

"Wait!" Harry had been talking fast, but I had caught one minor detail that he had forgotten to mention. "What dream?"

I knew how Harry and dreams functioned. It was merely a precaution to know what happens inside Harry's head while he sleeps. Harry, of course, had frozen in place after his realization that he had let something slip.

"Um, well it's not…anything too important, really…"

"Harry, you said you would tell me about any dreams you have!"

"I wrote it down in that journal you gave me. It said a bunch of nonsense about what it meant. It was nothing. Honestly…"

Although he didn't know it, this was serious business. Harry having dreams was a clear indication of something going on, and I had to make sure it was nothing serious. I took a deep breath, stood from the chair I had been sitting in ( _it was so comfy, though I would expect nothing less from the Burrow_ ), and pulled out my wand, preparing to apparate to Harry's room at Hogwarts and get his dream journal myself.

"Hermione…"

With a short crack and a whirl of colors, I arrived at the front of the school and began fast walking to reach his room. I hadn't made it to the entrance quite yet before I heard another crack, and Harry was running after me. I began running as well, rushing to get there before he could catch me. I had lost him at the first flight of stairs after I turned them into a slide, but he caught back up with me just before we reached the hallway of rooms near Gryffindor Tower. I quickened my pace and tossed a binding spell behind me, which he must dodged by the continuing sound of his feet thudding against the ground right after my own. I tried to hurry, but I knew I would not make it past his door without him being right behind me. I tossed an  _ **Alohomora**_  at his door, being a few feet away from it, but the door didn't budge an inch. With only a few seconds to think of something else, my mind filed out all my possible choices before me and my subconscious picked the one most likely to work.

" _ **Accio Harry's dream journal!**_ "

There was a loud thud as Harry's journal hit the door in its attempt to get to me. I waved my wand at it, imagining it turning into a small bead that could easily fit underneath the bottom of the door, and it slipped beneath and into my hand. With success in my grasp, I quickly ran back to the front of the school and disapparated to the first spot that came to mind, which unfortunately was the Burrow. At my arrival, I shook my head and apparated to a location Harry would never guess.

My feet landed perfectly on the wood floor of my personal work room. I easily changed the bead back into Harry's journal and opened the book directly to the first page, knowing it probably wasn't the first time he had not told me about a dream he had.

_Dear journal thing,_  (a lovely beginning to a journal entry)

_I had been standing before a waterfall, looking into it and watching the occasional glitter inside it. Then the glitters gathered together and made a face of someone, but it was hard to tell who it was. I reached a hand out to try and make it out better maybe, but the moment I touched the water, it disappeared and I was standing before a ghostly figure instead. The features were clear, but it was a stranger. The stranger smiled and congratulated me on a job well done. I asked it what I had done, and it replied that I had finally become happy and made my world a better place. I asked if it meant that I had defeated Voldemort, but it shook its head and said Voldemort had never been a part of my life. I asked it what it meant, but it disappeared._

_I really don't remember anything else other than something about a daisy._

I read the journal's comments next, in the margins of the page.

_Waterfall:  
To see a water fall is symbolic of letting go. You are releasing all those pent up emotions and negative feelings. Alternatively, the dream represents your goals and desires. In particular, if the waterfall is clear, then it represents revitalization, regeneration and renewal._

_Ghost:  
To see your own ghost in your dream symbolizes aspects of yourself that you fear. This may involve a painful memory, guilt, or some repressed thoughts. Or you may be afraid of death and dying. Alternatively, ghosts are representative of something that is no longer obtainable or within reach. It indicates that you are feeling disconnected from life and society. Try to figure out what the ghosts wants or what it is looking for. The dream may also be a calling for you to move on and abandon your outdated modes of thinking and behavior._

_Stranger:  
To see a stranger in your dream signifies a part of yourself that is repressed and hidden. Alternatively, it symbolizes the archetypal dream helper who is offering you insight and advice._

_Daisy:  
To dream of walking in a field of daisies represents good luck and prosperity. Someone will be there to offer you a helping hand and some guidance for your problems_

I thought to myself what all it could mean. Both the unidentifiable figure in the waterfall and the stranger who was a ghost; were they connected? It was hard to tell. I turned the page and read the next entry.

_Dear Journal thing,_

_Sorry,_  (he apologizes to his journal?)  _I really don't remember too much of the dream now. I know it had a lot of white, and I felt almost blinded by it._

Then margins read:

_White:  
White represents purity, perfection, peace, innocence, dignity, cleanliness, awareness, and new beginnings. You may be experiencing a reawakening or have a fresh outlook on life. Alternatively, white refers to a clean, blank slate. Or it may refer to a cover-up. In Eastern cultures, white is associated with death and mourning._

_Blind:  
To dream that you are blind represents your refusal to see the truth or your lack of awareness to a problem. Perhaps you are rejecting something about yourself or your situation._

I sighed. The entries didn't help too much if he didn't remember them. I turned the page and read the next entry, feeling a small bit of disappointment that he did not say "Dear Journal thing".

_I was sitting at a desk with a quill, ink, and parchment before me. A voice behind me said to write a 1000 -word essay. I asked the voice what I should write about, but it didn't reply. I stared at the page for a moment before I picked up the quill and started writing without thinking about it. My hand was writing its own words. When I had written quite enough worth, I reread it and discovered I had written about how my life before Hogwarts was similar to a muggle concentration camp. I remember the quote:_

" _I was suppressed like no muggle had been before with a large part of myself hidden from the world, to the point where I wanted death, instead of faced it." It was a very well-written essay like nothing I could ever write. For some odd reason, I pushed it off the desk and it fell off and disappeared._

I felt a bit disturbed by the actual quote that Harry had remembered from his dream essay. I was, however, more focused on the fact that he had said a large part of himself was hidden from the world, instead of just himself, and then the fact that he wanted to die because of it. Being a muggle-born, I had learned about muggle concentration camps. Comparing them to Harry's life before Hogwarts was awful. Harry had told me full out how awful those times had been, but they were nowhere near as awful as concentration camps. He should know that, too. It was such an ominous comparison; too dark for Harry to ever think of, even in his subconscious.

_Essay:_  
To dream that you are writing an essay suggests that you need to think things through before acting on them. You need to be more objective when evaluating a situation.  
To see or read an essay in your dream represents some deadline or anxiety over an issue. Alternatively, the dream indicates that you are being put though a test.

_Concentration Camp:  
To see or live in a concentration camp in your dream indicates that you are afraid of differences. You are having difficulties accepting others and their differences. Learn to appreciate diversity and the uniqueness in yourself and in others around you._

I grimaced and flipped the page once more.

_I had been sitting in a pool of water looking around me, and seeing Cygnus frowning and holding up his flower bracelet on his wrist. He looked at it for a moment, and then one flower fell off, and all the flowers came apart, slowly falling down to the ground. Once they hit the ground, they crumpled into ashes. When I looked up again, there were Ron and Hermione, smiling at me like they always do. Then Draco walked up behind them, with his purple bruise on his face, smiling too, just like they were. I heard his voice repeat all around me saying "I wish I could take it all back…take it all back…" and then Hermione, Ron, and Draco faded away. I looked down to the water and saw my reflection. I looked normal for a moment, and then the water rippled, and my reflection changed into Hyden, who smiled back at me. Then the water splashed me, and I woke up._

This dream had much more substance to it. Lots of things that needed interpretation.

_Pool:  
To see a pool of water in your dream indicates that you need to acknowledge and understand your feelings. It is time to dive in and deal with those emotions. Alternatively, a pool indicates your desire to be cleansed. You need to wash away the past._

_Bracelet :_  
To see or wear a bracelet in your dream refers to an expression of deep passion and fire. The dream is also a sign that you need to rekindle old friendships and to call up an old friend that you haven't heard from in a while.  
To see a broken bracelet in your dream suggests that you tend to sacrifice your own comfort and happiness for others.

_Ashes:  
To see ashes in your dream signifies bitter changes and disruptions. Ashes may represent a failed relationship or a ruinous business enterprise. You feel that the good times are over and nothing of value is left in your life. Alternatively, ashes may mean that you are dwelling too much on the past. You need to learn to let go._

_Smile:  
To dream that you or others are smiling means that you are pleased with your achievements and approve of the decisions you have made. You will be rewarded for the good things you have done for others. Alternatively, a smile indicates that you are in search of something or someone that will make you happy._

_Purple:  
Purple is the color of royalty, high rank, justice, wealth and dignity._

_Repeat:  
To dream that something is repeating indicates that there is some message that you need to ingrain in your mind. Perhaps you are trying to memorize something. Alternatively, the dream refers to the monotony and routine of your daily life. You need to get out of the rut._

_Reflection:_  
To see your reflection in your dream represents your true self; it is time to look within. The reflection may highlight both your flaws and positive attributes. Learn from your flaws and how to improve them. At the same time, appreciate your good qualities. Alternatively, your reflection indicates how you want others to perceive you.  
If you see a strange figure or something other than your own reflection, then it suggests that you are undergoing some identity crisis. You are not sure about who you are anymore.

_Splash_ _**:** _ _  
To dream that you are being splashed by water means that you need to be more expressive with your feelings. It also indicates your need to be revitalized._

I turned to the next page, then saw that was his last entry. I sighed. The only part about Cygnus was about the bracelet.

I had a small revelation in my mind. Draco had been wearing a flower bracelet on the day of the celebration. He had said it was about a boy and that bracelet. That boy must have been Harry in disguise. My forehead fell onto my palm. That was the reason Draco had gotten those bruises from his father. I should have known that it had been my fault, in some way or another. If it hadn't been for my interference in their lives, I could have spared Draco some pain.

But if Harry's last entry was about the bracelet, the dream must have been just after or just before the celebration, meaning the dream he was talking about earlier was one he hadn't written down.

Closing the book, I figured it was best to find Harry and talk to him about all his dreams, if not for all our safety then for his mental health. In a wave of my wand and a crack I was back at the Burrow, in the field. I made my way inside only to find Harry lying face down on the couch, looking rather frustrated.

"Harry, I wouldn't have to steal your journal if you just told me about your dreams."

He grunted into the cushion and flipped over.

"I told you, they aren't important, Hermione. They're just embarrassing and odd."

"So they seem. Tell me about the dream you had last. You didn't write it in your journal, you fibber."

Harry sighed and sat up slowly. "I don't remember every detail about it. I know I was in the field with Cygnus, running around and stuff, and then he kissed me, and I woke up."

I contemplated this, figuring out every possible connection that it could or could not have with his other dreams.

"Really, Hermione, it doesn't really matter. I was caught in the moment, and I rushed over to find Cygnus and…" he trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

"And what, Harry?" He looked away and pretended not to hear what I had said. "And  _what_ , Harry? It's alright, you can tell me."

His neutrality slipped into a small scowl. "It sounds corny...to make my dream come true. After the dream, I wanted it to come true, so I went and found Cygnus and made it come true. Sort of." He shrugged.

The gears in my brain worked, processing the information he had finally given me, which wasn't much. "Really Harry, you need to write down all your dreams as soon as you wake up, otherwise I'll have no idea what they all mean…"

"Can't I just have my dreams in peace? I haven't seen Voldemort in any of them. My scar hasn't hurt. I probably don't even have that connection with him anymore, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to kill him."

"Well, we have to be extra sure, Harry." It was silent a moment before I spoke up again. "So this Cygnus, what's he like?"

Harry sighed. "I'm not sure you'll get it, Hermione. There's this weird…sort of…unspoken communication between us, almost like we've known each other since we were young."

I smiled. "Really? How so?"

He gave me an unsure look and then proceeded to explain, "It's going to sound ridiculous, but honest, it's why we're so…like we are. The first day I met him was weird. We had no idea who the other was, and I was sort of intruding on his…field. I don't know how it happened really, but we just started being kids together. We made clouds and sang really loudly and ran about carelessly. We were both adults, but…we acted so childish. It was a different world, Hermione, being a kid for once…"

He trailed off, losing himself to his thoughts. It was odd seeing him like this, and knowing that I had a normal childhood, while he had a horrid childhood. I felt so sorry for that, and guilty in a way, even if it was not my fault at all.

"Harry, that's wonderful that you've found someone who will be a child with you."

"Not anymore," he said. "Probably doesn't want to see my face ever again."

I stood up from the chair and calmly walked over to the table where his ring was. I wasn't used to using the more extreme measures of convincing people, but I was sure I could at least get  _something_  threatening out. "Oh yes, I suppose you are right, Harry. He's probably not gay, and so he probably finds you disgusting."

I picked up the ring and faced his confused features.

"If he really doesn't want to see you ever again, you just need to get rid of this ring. That way, he would just think you are plain-old Harry Potter, and that way he can congratulate you on your job well-done with the Dark Lord instead of acting like your childhood best friend. In fact, I could just handle that for you. I'll rid of this little piece of nonsense."

By this point, Harry had sat up and was now making a gesture to grab the ring from my hand.

"No! I need that ring, Hermione."

"Need it? For what?"

"Well… I still want to go around publicly without people knowing I'm The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord."

"But what if Cygnus is there?"

"I'll just…ignore him if I have to." Harry let out a breath he had been holding inside. "He'd probably ignore me, anyway."

His eyes looked at the ground as he wallowed in his own lies to himself. I placed Harry's ring back on the table where it had been and slid back into the chair.

"Harry," I said rather quietly, "You will never know for sure until you talk to him. If he ignores you, is he really worth your time?"

Harry's eyes met mine, red and slightly puffy, but no tears came.

"You both share something special," I continued. "I don't think anything could change that." It was the honest truth, though Harry had only a vague idea of what all the words actually meant.

His eyes broke contact, and he nodded, set on the floor once more. "You're right, Hermione. I'm being over-dramatic about this whole thing." He placed his elbow on his knee and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll…I'll talk to him."

* * *

**3rd Person POV:**

"So let me get this straight," said the Minister of Magic, more to himself than to his secretary, "A woman has just come in saying she has something that belongs to Mr. Harry Potter, but will not give information on what it is, and in exchange for said item back, she wants… a personal meeting with him…"

His very confused secretary added, "She mentioned something about a kiss. I wasn't so sure; she was talking so fast and giggling…"

And the Minister of Magic had thought he was done with this Potter Obsession when the celebration was over… Of course, he was wrong about that. Surely Potter would not be free of his fan girls until he passes, and even then his name would forever be in Wizarding history textbooks. "Surely the item she has is not so important…"

"Mr. Potter only has so many things…." She trailed off.

The sentence was unnecessary to finish. It was clear to them both that because of his upbringing ( _or rather, the rumors heard about it from others who said they'd heard Dumbledore speak of it_ ) that he had not been the most fortunate child in muggle care, and he had never really grown into any luxuries offered to him. He still only kept few possessions of his, and they were of high sentimental or useful value. Anything taken from him was obviously important, at least to some degree.

"Have you tried yet to contact him?"

She shook her head with an added slowness from possible regret ( _depending on what he said to her. She didn't want to disappoint him. Not that she had ever disappointed him before, he was very understanding, but still…_ ). "I needed to pass this information to you first."

The Minister stood and proceeded to firecall Harry's room at Hogwarts, to no avail. He sighed and sat back in his chair.

"I need an owl. This problem must be addressed immediately with Mr. Potter, and seeing as he is not currently home, we will have to settle for a bit of a wait for his reply."

His secretary nodded quickly and stepped out of the room to have an owl arranged to be sent to Mr. Potter immediately. Once alone once more, the Minister ran a dry, slightly calloused hand across his forehead.

_If the mounds of paperwork on my desk do not force me to retire early,_  he thought to himself,  _surely the stress shaken up by the star-struck witches of Mr. Potter's fan base will… I may need a vacation soon if it persists._ With one more longing sigh, the experienced hand of the Minister told hold of the quill on his desk, and continued to fill out the stack of papers that waited on his desk, anything from wand registry to criminal records to political forms, all calling his attention. He would sign here, and initial there, read the paragraph that followed, and then sign again. His own signature was so quick and mindless now, he often found himself forgetting that he even signed.

_Just a side effect of aging, I suppose…_ The Minister held up the finished paper and it vanished to its proper place in…  _oh where was it again that it was going to? Securities ward? No, no, no…_ he pondered only a few seconds more before shrugging and continuing on with his work, thoughts of returning to the fulfillment of his Auror days.


	9. Visions

**Cygnus's POV:**

Pale blue with small puffy clouds scattered randomly across the everlasting sky. Rustling greenery that carried the scent of freshness through the grass around me. Everlasting blackness with mental images fading in and out of things I wanted to remember and of things I wish I could forget behind my eyelids. These were the only things I had seen for the last hour or two. Usually, I would think as I stared at nature, but for once, my mind had no words. Since I was quite sure that I had long lost my sanity, I didn't fight the horrifying thoughts that arose when I closed my eyes, even just to blink. Small flashes of disaster, blood, anger, violence, and death that had always been imprinted in my mind now came forth to attack.

To explain this, I first need to explain what happened earlier, or yesterday, rather, and then how my brain functions.

First: what happened yesterday was ( _to say the least_ ) the happiest day of my life. Never had I expected that sweet lips would meet mine anytime soon, or that they would belong to a friend, or that I would actually enjoy it so much. After such an event, I was actually really happy for once. My mind had wondered on the future; what would happen between us now? Would he show up ever again? Was he really the person I thought him to be? Could we still share fun moments together and let ourselves feel free? They were lovely thoughts to occupy my mischievous mind for a while.

Then: I went to sleep with thoughts of sugar plums dancing in my head ( _not really, just a figure of speech_ ). However, this was a horrible mistake. My mind has been trained to take away any single good thing that I have and replace it with something god-awful. So of course, I awoke with sweat dripping down my face, hair plastered to my skull, tears in my eyes, and a wonderful picture of my identity being revealed and Hyden on a stake being sacrificed to the Ministry of blood-thirsty murders ( _while it may seem like I'm making the Ministry out to be something it's not, that is not the case; that is actually what happened in my dream_ ). And after numbing myself to the point I am at currently, I still am haunted with various, random tortures.

I blink, and for a slit second Hyden is there. He was wearing a dark cloak with one sleeve completely missing. I could hardly see his face through the shadow casted by the hood he wore, but blood seeped from his bottom lip because he was biting it, and his eyes were shut as tight as possible as a familiar deep green and black glow painfully seeped into the pores of his skin and planted itself there permanently. The process had been halfway finished, and just above the smoke and light given off, I could see the top of a black skull tattoo, and knew that an all too familiar snake would eventually protrude out of its mouth. I open my eyes, and the image is gone from sight, but not from memory.

A bright circle that my eyes cannot see directly in a field of pale blue and white cotton candy clouds that are transparent enough to see a small bit of sky but solid enough to have depth. Blades of grass breathing in the breeze and whistling into my ears quietly. The sweet smell of oxygen inhaled into my lungs like a natural calming draught. My eyes burn from being open too long, and still I try my hardest to keep my eyes open. They start to water, and I figure a few more seconds before they are replenished and I no longer need to blink. Involuntarily, my vision is filled with black and I see a pool of red, a knife in a pale hand clutching a large dagger while its brother clutches the figures waist. A loud cough and a splatter of new blood appears upon the darkness. The head rises shakily to meet my eyes and I see Hyden's warm brown orbs in pain; his very soul tortured.

And open again to bright, beautiful day.

This sort of thing was actually very common. I have no other way to explain it other than to say I am a self-torturing machine wired to only attack when life is at its best. Everything that harms me is completely self-inflicted. Just when I think life may have a purpose and be worth living, a way is always found to bring me back down into the fire chamber for more scars. I dream of what I cannot have, or of what I subconsciously will not allow myself to have. Every moment of pain is realizing that I do not live in reality any longer, and that I never can again, simply confined to my own dark, lonely world. There is only temporary success in my life, which always ends in failure or disappointment.

I try to keep myself inside myself with a collection of genuine masks. Surrounded with thoughts of blood and hatred and death every living moment of my life, never really sure that I had ever truly been loved. A tall dark figure in the corner of my vision, holding a small candle to light the darkness. He whispers to me, calling my name, asking for help, emotion in his voice. A bolt of lightning that matched the color of the grass around me lit up my world; it shook and turned, and flipped my world. A figure on the floor, perfectly unharmed, candle on the floor of darkness no longer lit, no breath but my own, slicing silence in my ears, an empty, lonely world.

My eyes opened to the same, pale blue sky with puffy clouds and bright green grass in perfect health, sun shining as bright as ever. Warm tears slid down my face, dripping onto the blades of the field. That was more than a blink.

_Had I fallen asleep? Was I even tired?_  It had seemed like hours had passed, but truly, nothing had changed.

_Bloody fuck_ , I really needed to get a hold of myself. I was really starting to lose it, and I barely had anything in the first place.

I wiped my tears and sat up in the grassy field. I ran a calming hand through my hair, only to get my ring caught on a tangled strand. I pulled, with large pain to my scalp and unsuccessful. Sighing, I attempted to untangle the ring and my lovely hair, succeeding enough to pull only a few strands from my head and getting the ring free.

_Stupid ring…destroying my perfectly styled bedhead._  I rubbed my head where the ring had pulled, still a bit sore. I stood up and decided to change clothes. I felt absolutely disgusting after all that sweating and crying and emotional bogus.

A quick cleaning charm never quite felt as great as a shower, but it still beat filth. I changed my clothes and proceeded to sit once more in the dented spot in the grass I always sat in. I called it my "sitting spot", since it was the only patch of grass that I could see the dirt through. Ever since I was younger, I had always chosen that spot to sit in. I don't quite remember how I marked it at first, but after a while, the grass faded away to just the plain, comfortable earth below. Since it had been a while since my last visits ( _before my more recent one or two_ ), the grass had grown back slightly, but was obviously behind the rest of the field. I had left a permanent mark on this field, and it had left a permanent mark on me.

Nothing was more enjoyable than sitting alone outside in a field where I had actually enjoyed throughout my childhood. Honestly. Well, there were a few exceptions that came to mind, but the field sure as fuck beat the Manor. Even though I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts, looking around at nature really eased my mind in the most stressed of places. Of course, I did also have my own forms of stress relief to add when needed.

I headed to my bag, grabbed a handful and a half of my marbles, and went back to my Sitting Spot. I arranged them in a line in front of me in order of ranking: first the grey one, then red, the two black ones, and finally the three greens. While I very much had not liked the colors of the marbles, they were still marbles. I placed one of each color into my palm, green, grey, red, and black, and let them float freely just above my hand. I moved my hand so that my palm was down, almost as if the marbles should suddenly fall to the ground, but still gravity did not affect them. They still floated in midair, slightly bobbing from side to side as if anxious to see what glorious trick I will attempt this time.

_Make a pyramid_ , I willed them all, even the ones on the ground before me. I knew there was one too many to make a perfect pyramid, and so I awaited their outcome.

The marbles had a mind of their own. The three green ones laid themselves as the base, with the two black above them, and the grey one on top. Floating just barely above the grey one was the red marble, looming and triumphing over all marbles as if it were supreme. I gave no specification as to where the marbles were to go specifically. I had learned that they arrange themselves how they want. And every time, it was always the same. The hierarchy was no oddity; I knew that the Dark Lord had possessed them for a second or two long enough to charm them. It was, however, the pure fact that a charm could last past a castor's death and still keep the same configuration.

In my hands ( _or more in the air above my hands_ ), I held probably the only surviving objects that had been tainted by the Dark Lord. About 99.99% of the objects had been destroyed or "cleansed" that had been in his possession, or that he had given to another, or that had ever been near him at any point in his life; the manor had been "cleansed" thoroughly as well, every last room down to the cobwebs in the corners, right before our trials. They had asked us to leave and take only the clothes we had been wearing and to leave everything else. My marbles had been in my school bag, and so I had taken them without meaning to. And now…here they were, putting on a play about the life of the once living Dark Lord.

" _The green ones can represent your family. Your father, your mother, and you. The black ones will represent your loyalty to me. Your father and you, in the future. This grey one here is me. And when there is a grey one, it must always be accompanied with red…"_

A twisting tornado with a grey eye and red, green, and black twisting around it so wildly; a center of red and grey with black and green orbiting the center like an atom of life. The marbles spun so fast, the colors blurred together while the grey and red stood perfectly still. Green blur and black blur encircling the nucleus, gaining speed, gaining acceleration, just faster and faster they went, no longer even holding the spherical shape of marbles, just a whirl of colors. And then they stopped. Before I willed them to. In the place of two black marbles and three green ones now were two large rings: a large green one and a smaller black one. In the middle, there was no longer a grey and a red, but rather a much larger grey one with speckled red throughout the inside, almost as if the red one had melted and then been eaten by the grey one.

I was startled enough by the reshaping of my marbles, but then a large crack disrupted my usually quiet field. Without looking up just yet, I moved my marble and rings into my pants pocket to avoid explanation.

"Hi…"

My eyes looked up and met his smooth chocolate ones.

"Hey." I smiled but made no effort to move from my Sitting Spot. I might like him, but my visions were farthest from becoming my reality if I stayed farther away. Who knows when my mind could slip into the real world?

"How…uh…how are you?" he surveyed the grassy field, looking anywhere but at me.

"Good," I said; which was a lie, of course. I was very far from good. "How are you?"

He smiled and met my gaze. "Brilliant, thanks."

Our eyes were like marbles. Color so lovely with a shiny look to them, and round. His marbles were like nothing I had ever gazed at before. They were so expressive all by themselves, no need for facial expressions. His life was happy, and his personality warm, and he looked to comfort. Nowhere in the hierarchy were ever such marbles before. All I knew was grey, and red, and black, and green. Here and now, I had been given an earthly brown, and no clue what to do with them but stare. I could only imagine that my eyes matched the grey marble I already had; so absent of color, pale, and dull to the other bright colors. And yet, Hyden saw different marbles in my eyes. I hardly remembered what color eyes my ring had given me…

"Please, come sit." I patted the grass next to my spot. If I was lucky enough, the grass would soon wear to the earth there, too. He sat and crossed his legs ( _like we used to say in school, "tailor fashion" or "crisscross applesauce"_ ). We sat for just a moment in silence, enjoying each other's presence, before I spoke up again. "I used to have seven marbles."

Hyden looked at me for a moment. I pulled the rings and marble out of my pocket and showed him.

"I used to have seven marbles, but now I have two rings and a huge marble. I don't know what happened, really…"

He picked up the large green ring from my hand and put it up to his face, looking through it to me. "I highly doubt that marbles have a huge hole right through the middle." He smiled.

I smiled, too. Something about having him here made me feel odd. I hadn't said one intelligible thing so far.

_Usually all I say is intelligible..._ I really hoped that I hadn't gone too crazy just yet.

"You might have a problem with your marbles. Just maybe."

I let out a small giggle. "It's good that I haven't lost my marbles."

"Very true." He laughs.

I smile and for a millisecond, my eyes close. The world goes black and before me is Hyden, perfectly unharmed. Then a flash of light and he's sitting on the floor, perfectly unharmed, even smiling at me. Another flash and he's lying on the ground, in a pool of blood, red tears pouring from his eyes, a look of panic where once had been happiness. He opens his mouth to speak and all that escapes is blood, a new pool formed in front of him. He looks up at me with pleading eyes. One more flash. His head is on the floor, lifeless, pale with death, a large contrast to the scarlet blood that surrounded him. Flash. He was gone, and all that was left was his blood in a large pool, with a large imprint where his body had been and words written in red that said "why didn't you help me when you could?" against the darkness of my eyelids.

My eyes open. My happy expression was far gone. Hyden was still smiling, staring out into the grassy field and enjoying the day. All that I had witnessed. It had all happened in a second. And I was dragged back to reality. Before I could even gather my bearings. Split between fantasy and reality. Never sure of when one or the other was in control of my well-being at the current moment.

"I can see why you like it here so much. The view is lovely."

I nodded, still very sobered. "I've been coming here ever since I was young."

He glanced over to me and said, "When you were young?"

"Yes."

"Not when you were a child. When you were young…"

"Precisely."

He looked to the ground, a half-smile on his face. "You didn't have much of a childhood then, too?"

I sighed. "I'm afraid not. My parents were focused on me growing up to be the perfect son they always wanted."

He nodded, but said nothing. His facial expression had sobered as well ( _but I doubt he had the same reasons as I_ ).

"It's odd," he started, and continued on, "how you can be young but not be a child. Usually the words are used interchangeably, one and the same."

"They have different feelings to them. To be a child is to play and experience the world around you in an enjoyable manner. To be young is just a relative age area. Everyone is young at some point in their lives, but not everyone is a child."

"Agreed."

That was simply it.

The lovely pale blue sky drew his attention more than ever. He was tense, like he was stressing about what he should do. While I wanted to ease his tension, I did not want to go near him. I wasn't sure if my mind could leak his death into the real world, but I most certainly did not want to find out. As much as I wanted to grab his hand and run about the field, I would not. As much as I wanted to hug him and tell him that he could relax, I would not. As much as I wanted, I would not do. Instead, we sat.

"It's okay," I said to him. He looked to me, but I answered before he could say anything in response. "There's no need to be tense. Nothing to worry about." I offered a small smile to him, which he returned with a warm, heart-stopping grin.

"You don't know that for sure," he said after a moment of nothing.

That was absolutely depressing. Not that I was the happiest person alive, but the fact that I told him there was nothing to worry about and he said that I couldn't know for sure just made me sad. I thought for a few long seconds, trying with all my might to say something intelligible back that would both make him feel better and make me feel smart again. It took a bit, but I finally decided.

"There's a reason I come here. Honestly, I just…dislike everything about a previous life I've lived. I come here and pretend that I can live an entirely new life without any interference. This field is sort of like a peace between me and Life, and I know every time I'm here, I don't have anything to worry about." I looked to him, our eyes met, a silent message passed. "I just wanted to extend that to you. If you need a peace with Life, by all means, this field is big enough for two." The corner of my lips raised in a half-grin.

He nodded and looked to the blades of grass between us, then back to me. "Thank you."

I smiled and remembered something, long and lost in the depths of my memories as a young Draco. I grabbed Hyden's hand and pulled us both up. I looked around the field, finding just what I was looking for toward the west and proceeded to walk in that general direction. Before he could ask what was going on, I started a story.

"Once upon a time, I had run away from home one summer between second and third year. I had really only been gone a few hours before I got hungry and decided to go back home, but in the few hours that I had been gone, I decided to make a secret world of my own. It took so long to make, I didn't even finish it that day. I had to come back for the rest of the week to finish it completely, and it required a lot of upkeep for a while, but when it was finished... A few people know about this field, but only I know about this."

I reached the patch of questionable, slightly brown grass that stood apart from the bright green grass of the rest of the field. It had been a side effect of the spell I had used from this one book I had found long ago in our library. Usually, I would use my wand to open it up, but I had no wand. I stepped around the patch a bit, trying to find a soft piece of earth. I found it and stomped hard on it ( _really, I felt like a child throwing a tantrum_ ).

The Earth gave way below me, but I managed to step on solid ground before both feet tumbled below. I dug around the hole to make it big enough for us to climb through. I gestured for him to go first. He slid down, disappearing below the ground with a confused look on his face. I slid right after him, emerging into my still perfect world that I had made. Why I hadn't remembered it before was beyond me. I could have taken a real bath this morning if I had.

It was a rather large alcove for being underground. A forest of great trees outlined the alcove, so thick it was impossible to see anything but more trees. Hyden, still confused, stared at his feet as a green circle lit underneath them, and then another just in front of him, and more before him, creating a pathway through the trees. It was rather dim in this part of the alcove due to the shady trees, but light would come.

"This way," I told him, and proceeded to lead the way, one lighted green circle after another. We walked for no more than a minute before the trees began to clear and made way for the center, the main part of the alcove.

A small lake ( _big enough to fit one baby whale comfortably inside_ ) lay just where I left it. Bright beams of sunlight poured in from hidden holes farther into the field, casting light onto the lake and sending glittering reflections of water around to dance along the forest edge. Surrounding the lake was green grass, just like the field above us held. I took a seat near the edge of the lake, and he followed my lead.

_I might love him._

Possibly. Would I ever really know for sure anytime soon? Of course not, but that didn't matter much. There were, fortunately, things that did matter in my life; for example, this wonderfully caring and absolutely incredible man that sat before me, talking about something.  _Oh,_  I thought,  _maybe I should listen._

He sighed.

"You know, this is actually very nice. I love the trees, and how the sun hits the water and makes everything glitter perfectly."

I smiled. "Glad my choice of scenery suits your tastes."

I pretended to look out to the water of the lake, but really, my eyes kept on him. How could I look away? Nature was nature; I could look at it anytime I wanted, but this was a view I didn't want to miss for the entire world. People, I had learned over the years, could be a more rare sight than even one-in-a-lifetime events. And just when you think there is no possible way they could do anything but be viewable, they become untouchable. Like someone I knew, and still loved but wished I didn't.

"You know, I used to not care much about nature. From my window, I would look outside and think to myself  _'how lovely it would be to be so far from where I am now'_ , but I never bothered to take the time to actually sit and look around."

"Why not?" I pondered out loud.

"Well, I was focused on other things back then." He paused a second. "Homework. Friends. Things like that." A strange look came onto his expression for just a moment before it disappeared and a smile replaced it. "I'm glad I get to enjoy it with you."

My heart fluttered, and if I didn't know any better, I would have thought my face had turned bright red.

"I…I'm glad, too."

_Don't get too close…you can't let anything happen. He's already inside your head…_  I told myself.

_Weak…_ it was my father's voice inside my head.  _Weak…_

He gave me a warm smile and looked right at me. He had such dark brown eyes, but they felt so oddly bright when they met mine, like they should be shades lighter to match.

"Please excuse me if you don't feel the same, but I have tell you how I feel. You're quite…amazing, and I can't think of anything that would make me happier than if you would go on a date with me."

Either the world stopped moving or I stopped breathing for a moment or two. I was in a sense of surprise. Had he actually just said that?

_Where on earth had that come from?_  But mostly, I didn't care; I was just joyed that it had occurred. When I got my bearings back, I finally found words.

"Yes... yes of course"

_If this is a dream, I never want to wake up._  But of course, it couldn't be a dream. I only have nightmares.

He sat there a moment, a pleasant grin on his face and chocolate eyes towards the lake, of which light reflected off and sent such lovely specks of glimmer onto them. After a period of silence, he finally replied "Are you free tomorrow? After two, maybe?"

_Tomorrow_ …I thought, dreamily. "Yes, that sounds perfect."

"Then I'll meet you in the field at two. We can walk to this lovely place I know…" he sighed in content. Looking over to me, he placed his hand over mine. If anything, I grew two shades redder. He opened his mouth to say something else, but must have thought better of it, and closed it.

One would think after such a life of hurt, pain, and suffering that I've had, I would think twice before tossing one's self head-first into a romantic relationship. I couldn't afford to let this one good thing in my life get away, or worse, let myself hurt him. I don't know what I would do.

_What if I screw up? Or what if I call him Harry by accident?_  It was a smart move, in my mind, to say nothing else, but an awful, torturous move in my heart.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." He had already gotten up, and was waiting for me to bid him farewell.

"See you then, I suppose."

He twisted and disapparated, leaving behind a happy feeling that would get me through the rest of my night, no matter how awful it could possibly be.

_I had someone else now._

* * *

**Harry's POV:**

I was so relieved. There was a moment right after I asked him out on our date where I was afraid he would say no. I could almost feel the world start to crumble beneath my feet, and feel the dread of silence eat away at my soul in anticipation, but his response was more than the simple "yes" or "no" I had expected. It was ever the slightest hint that he might actually feel the same way I feel for him, but I wouldn't take the giant leap it would be to tell him I loved him. It was much too soon to do anything of that nature. Daring and courageous Gryffindor I might be, but I wanted to do anything but ruin his one chance I may have.

Back in my room inside Hogwarts, I took off my ring and set it on the bedside table. It seemed so wrong to pretend to be someone else. I obviously couldn't keep it up forever if I plan to have a serious relationship with someone. Cygnus would need to know sooner or later, and it may not be the easiest thing to do.

" _I love you more than anything else in the world, Cygnus. Oh, and by the way, I've been lying to you ever since we met. I'm actually the famous Harry Potter in disguise. Hope that doesn't change anything between us. Alright, good."_  That would go well. ( _Or not_.)

I lay down on my bed and looked up at the ceiling. It was a rather plain peach color, almost as if the sand of a beach had been there, and then blurred together to form one solid, texture-less color. It was nothing compared to the beautiful blue that my eyes had been enjoying for the past hour.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had spent most of our time together in the field, and when he finally showed me his hidden alcove, I had left almost as soon as we had arrived.

_Merlin, he must think I'm so insensitive!_  I sighed in frustration and covered my face with my hands.  _Why am I so oblivious?_

In the middle of my frustrations, a loud tap at my window interrupted. I stood and opened my window to see an owl present me with a note tied to its leg. I had not seen this owl before, but it looked rather like Professor McGonagall if her Animagus was an owl rather than a cat. Right when I had just freed the letter from the owl's leg, it took off. Obviously, it did not want me to reply.

I sat down in the only chair I had in my room, and read my letter.

_Of most urgent notice to dear Mr. Potter,  
We have gotten word from a girl whom had stated she has an important item of yours. She has required many things upon its return that shall be discussed in my office, and my office alone. We ask that you visit my office immediately for said discussion._

_All due respect,_  
**Kingsley Shacklebolt  
** _Minister of Magic_

_I was missing something? Someone stole something important?_ _A girl?_  Immediately, I thought of that girl who attacked me at the celebration.

_Did she take something? Did I have anything with me?_  I had my wand. I know I had been having a lot of frustration that morning with my clothes. I couldn't have brought anything too important. Plus I hadn't noticed anything missing. It couldn't be too important then.  _What else did I take?_ I sighed.  _I guess I'll only find out when I go._

I quickly took off my ring, whipped out my wand, and disapparated to the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

**3rd Person POV:**

Harry arrived at the door of the Minister of Magic, and cautiously opened it. He knew that the Minister had asked for his immediate presence in his office, but he still couldn't be sure that the Minister just wanted him to barge in.

"Mr. Potter, we have important issues to discuss. Please, sit." The Minister smiled and gestured to the chair.

Harry went in and sat. He never felt uncomfortable having a Minister of Magic that had been in the Order of the Phoenix, but for some odd reason, talking about crazy fan girls was not a typical discussion one wanted to have with…well, anyone.

"I trust you have gotten my message."

"Yes. That girl at the celebration, who ran after me and took a bit of my hair, I don't know what she took, but I haven't noticed anything missing."

The Minister nodded. "That is good. I am glad that she has not taken anything of importance to you. Do you think she is bluffing?"

"Uh, I have no idea." Harry scratched his head, thinking. "She could be…but I'm not so sure. She has to have  _something_  to…uh…what does she want again?"

The Minister cleared his throat and picked up a piece of parchment from his desk, reading from it.

" _In return for Harry Potter's item of significance, I would like a personal, private meeting with him in a secluded area, of his choice. Harry may then kiss me if he wishes, or never see his precious item again. He must also be willing to tell the world about our kiss and pose publicly for a magazine/newspaper."_

"Oh," was all Harry could get out. He was…flattered?...that a girl would steal something from him so she could kiss him, but…how would he tell her that he was gay?

"Do you have any idea at all what she could have taken that is generally considered important?"

"I can't think of anything really…" Harry trailed off as he came to a realization. " _My wallet!_  I don't think I took it home with me, but I remember taking it." He pulled his wand out of his back pocket and cast " _ **Accio wallet.**_ "

There was a loud, high-pitched scream from outside of the Minister's office. A few seconds later, the Secretary opened the door, and through it flew Harry's wallet directly to him. An aggravated yell, and then the girl from the celebration came through the door.

"You were supposed to negotiate for it! I  _want_ my kiss!"

The Minister stood to calm her, but Harry stood as well. He walked over to the girl, who stood motion-less with a blank expression, eyes trained on his face with only brief pauses to glance at his lips. Harry stood in front of the girl, and she did not dare make a move.

"I'm so sorry that you missed the news, but I'm actually gay. Sorry about the confusion."

Harry walked right past the girl, who stood confused, looking at the Minister, who tried with all him might to not smile at Harry's…honesty? Confidence? Maybe even bluff. He wasn't sure, but he didn't really care. The girl however…

"He's gay?" Her shoulders drooped, as did her hopes.

"Yes. And, I'm afraid you must go back to work without a kiss." The Minister sat down once more and continued his paperwork.

The girl huffed and left the room dragging her feet.

_Soon enough_ , thought to the Minister, _I'll find an alternative to all this paperwork._ Currently, he was signing a file about the Auror department. They apparently were having difficulties with a current worker who kept skipping. Attached at the bottom were the workers excuse notices. There were 5 total.

"Celebration," the Minister read the first slip, then the next. "Event?" and the next, "Planning? Planning what?" The last two were blank on the reasons. The Minster sighed and flicked his wrist where a small ghostly Lynx shot out to deliver a message to the Auror department to arrange a meeting between the Head of the Auror department, the unruly co-worker, and himself.


	10. Separate Worlds

**Harry's POV:**

I slept little. I had fallen right to sleep at a decent time, but my dreams kept me awake. They were so odd, and they seemed endless, though they only lasted a few hours.

_I had been sitting in a dark room full of silence. I could see nothing. And then a thud below me. I heard shouts and someone running up stairs. Still, there was nothing. I felt around, trying to see if I could feel anything. And all at once, a bright, lime light shone in front of me like a lightning bolt, illuminating Ron and Hermione smiling and laughing together in a wizard picture. They were bathed in the eerie light, making them look sick. They stepped out of the picture and started clapping. A pure white light suddenly shined right on me, hurting my eyes. I looked around me, only to see an audience, all clapping, watching me in the spotlight. I fell to my knees, tears falling down my cheeks and at a loss for breath. Someone came up from behind me and embraced me, whispering in my ear that everything would be alright. I tried to push them off me to see who it was, but they would not let go. They just continued to reassure me. The spotlight faded and the clapping stopped and the person behind me was gone. Everything was dark again._

I had woken up, crying, and immediately wrote down the dream in my journal, getting some tears on the pages. I had closed the book and decided not to even look at the interpretations of my dream. The interpretations were always so off. Mostly…

It was at least past four in the morning when I finally couldn't take it anymore. Lying in bed thinking about not reading the interpretations only made me want to read them more. I sat up, turned on a lamp, and opened my journal to the latest entry I had written to see the margins filled with writing.

_Darkness:_ _**  
** _ _To dream that you are lost in the darkness denotes feelings of desperation, depression, or insecurity._

_To dream that you are groping around in the darkness symbolizes that you have insufficient information to make a clear decision. Do your research and do not rush into making choices._

_Applause:_ _  
To hear applause in your dream indicates that you are seeking acclaim and recognition. You need to acknowledge yourself in some area or situation in your life._

_Spotlight:_ _  
To dream that you are in the spotlight indicates your need to be noticed and to be the center of attention. Perhaps you are feeling overlooked in your waking life and the dream is a compensatory one_

_Tears:_ _  
To dream that you are in tears signify that you are undergoing a period of healing in your life. The tears symbolize compassion, emotional healing and spiritual cleansing. Alternatively, tears indicate pain_

_Embrace:_ _**  
** _ _To dream that you are embracing someone else indicates that you are in need of more affection or that you need to show more love._

_Crying:_ _  
To wake up crying represents some suppressed hurt or previous trauma that is coming up to the surface. You can no longer suppress these emotions. They need to be dealt with head on._

I reread the last interpretation, and then my dream once more.

_Crying? I never mentioned that I woke up crying…_  There was no way for the book to know that I woke up crying. Unless it noticed that I got tears all over the pages…of course.

The spotlight and applause were bloody lies. I hated both of them. I didn't need applause or the spotlight. I just wanted to live life without them. I would much rather just be normal. Being famous was just awful.

I rubbed my forehead and got out of bed. I wasn't going back to sleep anyway, so I figured I might as well get ready, too. I dressed, showered, not in that order. I quickly lost interest in combing my hair. What was the point? It was unmanageable. And plus, I had a ring that would change my appearance anyway. I went over to my bedside table and put the ring on. What was there to do now? No one was up yet, not even the sun.

Thoughts about Cygnus filled my mind. He had said he would let me use the field as a peace between me and life. And then I had left right when he had let me into his perfect world.

_I'm a complete ass for this…_  I thought to myself as I grabbed my wand and apparated to his world. He probably didn't even want to see me again, but I really needed something.

I arrived right by the edge of the lake where we had been earlier. The waters still cast off a glittering reflection of moonlight from the holes above. It was a peaceful place; beautiful and breathtaking. It was hard to believe that an almost-third-year Cygnus could have made such a thing. That thought got me thinking.

_Cygnus went to Wizarding School. He must have gone to Hogwarts. He doesn't look too much younger than me, or older. He could be anywhere from one year above me to one year below me. I don't ever remember seeing him around…_  I sighed. The water was so calm, just sitting at a stand-still, looking like perfect glass hidden and untouched by the rest of the world. Really, it did resemble glass, a lot. My hand went ever so cautiously to touch the surface of the glass, to feel upon the cool, hard surface, maybe lay on it. But when my finger touched the surface, I was only met with cool water, where my finger slipped right through, sending a ripple throughout the waters. I quickly pulled my finger back, startled. I had just disrupted the calmness of the lake, making ripples where once had been perfect calmness.

It was a guilty feeling, in an odd sort of way, to ruin something so perfect with just one touch. And now the ripples went on and on, creating a chain reaction of disturbance for the rest of the lake. All with one touch.

I decided to lie on my back and stare up at the moonlight shining through the holes in the field above. There was really nothing to do but stare anyway. Stare and think.

_I have to be up in the field in about ten, eleven hours. I bet he'll be surprised to see me just pop out of the ground and say "Okay, let's walk to that place I know now." Am I even sure he would like the place or not? Maybe I should just tell him that we should stay here instead. But what would he think of that? Me just canceling us going somewhere. Together. I can't just change my mind. I kind of have to take him there now. I'm obligated to. He expects me to take him somewhere. But it doesn't necessarily have to be that place, it could be somewhere completely different. But where else would we go? I'll just take him where I had planned to take him. If he doesn't like it, then maybe he's not really worth my time._

_Well…that sounded bad. I didn't mean it like that. I just…I really hope he likes the place I'm taking him to. Merlin, I'm an asshole! Of course he's worth my time. He's offered me so much, and we haven't really known each other too long. What have I offered him? Pretty much nothing with a side of lies. How the bloody hell am I going to tell him that I'm the fucking Boy-Who-Lived-And-Gets-Attacked-By-Crazy-Psycho-Fan-Girls? As much as I explain to him how much I don't want to be famous, I don't think he'll appreciate the fact that I've lied to him about who I was. And he's given me so much…_

After making myself feel like a complete jackass, I decided thinking was probably only hindering myself. And so, I grabbed my wand and decided to play "Harry Says" with my Patronus. Calm waters, sunlight reflecting off the surface glistening amongst the trees, my hand over his, and he says yes…

" _ **Expecto Patronum.**_ " My stag emerged and stood before me. I moved left, and he moved as my mirror image. I put my hands straight up above me, and my stag stood on it rear hooves. I put them down so that my hands touched the ground and he bowed. I spread my hands as wide as they could go, and he stood tall and proud before me, king of the lake, and forest, and field. I stood still for an exaggerated moment, and he faded away.

I sighed, alone once more. I ran a hand through my hair and sat back down beside the lake, looking into the hypnotizing specks of light that reflected off the surface. As much as I wanted to touch the water, I didn't. It was just so perfect, like glass once more, a smooth surface that shattered all light rays that entered and shot them back in a dazzling design.

_I shouldn't have come here,_  I thought to myself. Cygnus probably didn't want me in his precious world when he wasn't there, whether he was mad at me for being an ass or not. I sighed again and stood. I looked around, not quite sure where the glowing stones were in the moonlight. I took steps around, testing ( _and probably looking like an idiot_ ) until I finally lit up one circle, leading to another and so on. I followed the stones out of the paradise and crawled back out to the field, walking in the direction of the park that I had come to just before meeting Cygnus for the first time.

There was nothing more depressing to me that seeing a deserted park ( _except maybe a lot of things, most of which have happened to me already_ ). It brought back memories of living with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Dudley.

I would escape to a small park every once in a while, and swing by myself, wondering when my life would turn around. I had been so young. Not a child, but young. I had wanted simple things, as I still do, but the whole world had been against me every moment of the day. Back then, I couldn't afford to have a childhood. That's the price one has to pay when the entire Wizarding world expects you to defeat the most evil wizard in the world before you even finish school.

I never quite understood that. How much blind faith can one person have when they put all their money on a boy who hadn't even known he was a wizard until he was eleven, and got beaten, and wasn't the top of his class, and had no parents, and got into so much trouble? All just because I didn't die as a wasn't even my doing that protected me, but my mother's. How do I end up with all the credit and glory for defeating Voldemort when I could have died several times if it wasn't for my friends, or professors? I didn't want to be famous.

I sat down on a swing and gently pushed myself back and forth, not really moving off the ground. I half expected Dudley and his gang to come out of nowhere with some eight-year-old's lunch money in his hand. It would have been just like old times. If, however, Dudley really did manage to get to this park somehow, I would curse him the first chance I got and then run, especially since I was in a disguise. I hated being in disguise. Well, not "hate" really as more of a "very strong preference against". I slipped off my ring and shoved it into my pocket.

_No one's here anyway._  I leaned back a bit in the swing, and then forward. Everything around me was so quiet, you could hear a pen click.

I stopped moving for a moment. I could have sworn that I just heard a pen click just as I thought that. I heard nothing for a moment, then another click. It wasn't a pen, but a shoe on the sidewalk to my right. I hopped off the swing quietly and walked over to the clump of oak trees near the sidewalk I heard the footsteps from. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound getting closer and closer.

_Who in their right mind would be out at this hour?_  More footsteps.

_Oh, right. People like me._  Finally an arm emerged into my view, then a leg, and a whole body, wearing a muggle shirt and some ripped jeans. I almost couldn't tell who it was, but from the almost white hair and pale complexion, I was positive that it was him.

_Why in Merlin's pants is he here?_  As tempting as it was to just watch him pass by, it was even more tempting to see his reaction to my presence. And I am a courageous, reckless and impulsive Gryffindor.

As soon as he passed by the tree, I stepped onto the sidewalk and just walked right behind him. For a few seconds, all was normal, just staring at the back of Draco Malfoy's head, walking behind him without his notice. Then he darted his head about suspiciously and looked over his shoulder.

If I had only had a camera with me to take a picture of Draco's reaction so I could develop it in that special stuff for moving wizard photos…

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL POTTER! WHERE IN THE BLOODY BLAZES DID YOU COME FROM?"

I smiled and shrugged. "I'm not really sure. What are  _you_  doing here?"

He was breathing hard, and it was so difficult to keep from laughing. I had  _really_  scared him.

He put his hand on his chest, "Bloody fuck, Potter. Did you plan to just appear and give me a bloody heart-attack? Is that what you do for fun, now? Can't defeat evil wizards, so why not scare the living shit out of childhood enemies?"

I shrugged again. "I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, poor thing. You couldn't sleep, so you had to find  _some_ way to entertain yourself. How did you even find me?"

"I didn't find you. I was at this park and you passed by."

He gave me a sneer. "So  _obviously_  if I pass by the first thing to do is pop out of nowhere and give me a near death experience?"

I scoffed. "Near death experience? I didn't scare you that bad, did I?"

"Well let's see, I was walking down this sidewalk, minding my own business, thinking that no sane person would be out at this hour. I was right, of course, no  _sane_  person is out. But I did not except you to just appear…"

"Funny, I had a similar experience. I was swinging, thinking, and then I hear footsteps. I thought to myself,  _'Who in their right mind would be up at this hour?'_  Of course, I accounted for myself, but of all people, I did not expect to see you here, either." I looked at him still catching his breath and calming his nerves. "Which brings me back to my original question: Why are you here?"

"As much as I'd love to tell you my life story, Potter, I'm afraid I don't have the time to. I really must be going."

With that, he started walking down the sidewalk again. Without anything better to do, I followed him. After a few moments, he looked back behind him and saw me. Again.

"What are you? A lost puppy? Stop following me." He continued on, as did I. He stopped, turned around, and looked me directly in the eyes. "What do you want?"

The first thing I noticed was that his bruise had faded away a lot since the celebration. However, there were more on his arms.

"What have you been doing to get all those bruises?"

He looked taken aback for a moment, but quickly became calm, cool, and collected. He just shook his head with a blank expression on his face.

"Accidents," he said. "Nothing worth losing your sleep for."

And with that, he walked toward me, then past me, right back the way he came from. I didn't follow him this time. I ran a hand through my hair and decided to spend the rest of my early morning in my room at Hogwarts. I turned and apparated to the front of the school, ready to just be sprawled onto my bed, wondering just exactly what Draco was doing up so late ( _or early_ ), and why of all places right where I had been.

* * *

**Draco's POV:**

I heard a very distinct crack of disapperation. I looked back at where Potter had been just a few seconds ago and saw that he was, indeed, gone. I sighed in relief and turned back around to go to the field.

_I knew it was a stupid idea._ I wasn't able to sleep and thought a walk around memories from my youth would either settle me enough to want to go to sleep or make me angry enough to want to go back to the field and escape back into my own little world of insanity. As it turned out, I had forgotten my ring when I had decided to take it off and go for a dip into my lake. I hadn't thought much about it until he had appeared out of nowhere. What was he doing at this park anyway? He hadn't recently moved nearby, had he? Having a past love move into a flat near your field when you are dating someone is one way to cause trouble.

Who am I kidding? I still loved him. He was so bloody caring and concerned, and was the fucking hero of the Wizarding world. I owed him about 51% of a life ( _since he had saved my life once and almost killed me once; I had done the math_ ). I still wish sometimes that he had accepted my friendship offering first year. Not that things would have been better, for him or me. In fact, they would have been inexplicably worse for him. But to have the chance to change years of fighting and hatred was very tempting.

_But I'm dating someone now!_  Why of all times does he pick the morning of my first date with Hyden to give me a fucking heart-attack and show how he cares about me enough to ask about my bruises? Why the hell would Life do that to me?

I had made it back to the field and now headed straight for my perfect world. The sun was barely starting to peak up over the horizon, turning the distant sky pink, orange, and purple that faded into the navy blue above my head. I slid down and immediately started walking on the path, even though the circles had not lit up just yet. By the time I had taken a few steps, the pathway through my forest was illuminated. I easily made my way to my lovely lake and began to look around. It wasn't too difficult to find my ring. It was shining in the reflected light of sunrise. Those words again, highlighted themselves against the silver band that shone, black engraved into almost white.

_To be or not to be…_

I never thought words could taunt me so. I quickly slipped the ring onto my finger and proceeded to take the oh-so sad journey of departing my rediscovered world and going back into reality, or rather what was left of it.

I slowly but surely made my way back to my Sitting Spot. Once seated, my finger wove themselves into my pocket to find my marble and rings. When I pulled out only a marble and a green ring, I was confused. I was sure that I had kept the black ring in there as well. Where in Merlin had it gone? My hands felt through the grass around me, checking to see if maybe I had not picked it up with the others, or dropped it possibly, but it was nowhere to be found. All I had was a green ring and a large grey marble with red inside. I sighed to myself.

_What would the Dark Lord do without our loyalty?_  I placed the green ring in my palm, then the grey marble in the center. I lifted them into the air slightly and asked them to go about their normal movements. The grey marble did not move, while the green ring spun around it, at first perfectly normal, then slightly off balance, and then stopped all together. I tried once more to get the marbles started, to which the ring responded to by breaking into three pieces, each about the same amount of the ring. Not a second later the pieces were back in the air, moving fast, spinning excitedly around the grey one to return to their marble shape. And alas, when it stopped, I had four marbles. Upon closer inspection, however, I noticed that one of the green marbles had absorbed a small amount of the grey one. The grey shone like heaven against the forest color, such a lovely compliment to it (or  _maybe that was just my inner Slytherin talking_ ).

When I tore my eyes away from the marbles, it was morning. The brightest star shone above my head as the distant moon waved a faint hand in its departure.

_What to do now?_  I had hours to kill before Hyden would show, which I very much anticipated. At least, I was pretty sure that I anticipated it. My thoughts were so muddled up at the moment, but a date with Hyden was probably just what I needed to clear those thoughts. I had an unhealthy obsession, and it had detracted from my life long enough. Hyden was my best bet at sanity. He was just so wonderful. There were no words to explain exactly how it feels to be heading into a better direction again; that feeling of relief with added happiness that all the bad is gone, and yet that secret part inside that just won't die without a fight. The civil war is drawing to a close, and the dark clouds are parting to make way for a new dawn.

I slid the marbles back into my pocket and laid myself down to watch the sky as it changed colors from rosy sunrise to bright blue day. I watched it almost every morning, and the same with sunset. No matter how many times I watched, nor how often, I was sure that I would always enjoy the way the colors faded and moved into one another, gradually moving to the next one in such a fluid fashion. So prestigious and elegant; an element of nature that could never quite be replicated by humanity, magical or not.

My thoughts walked through a field of their own, picking flowers of thought to bring to my attention.

_Had my father noticed my absence yet? Surely the elves would be suspicious after a few days of my not moving an inch from where I had last been. Were they looking for me? Or did father just shrug it off as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders? The latter, more likely._ The flower wilted in its end, and so the thought walked to another and picked it.

_What would my date with Hyden be like? I really hope it's not awkward, or weird in anyway. Surely it would be nice. We both fancy one another, so there should at least be something going on. Where was he going to take me? If we could walk there, I wasn't sure how romantic it would be…the only places around here were private residents of muggles, that park, and a few small places here and there to eat, but nothing really appetizing._  The flower quickly wilted. A walk-around, my thought trying to find another flower to pick; just as my thought was about to call it quits, one flower stood tall and proud in the grass. A smiling child went and pulled its stem up, but the flower would not budge. Another tug, and to no avail. The child frowned and went directly for the roots, determined to pull the flower up. As the roots were lifted above the blades of grass, my consciousness sunk deeper and deeper into a comfortable darkness that was sleep.

* * *

**3rd Person POV:**

The Minister checked his watch once more. The last time he had checked had been about five minutes ago, which was five minutes too soon to leave for the meeting. He nodded to himself and stood from the chair he had been sitting in for hours filling out endless paperwork. Mostly reforms he needed to take into consideration. When he had first gained the Ministry of Magic position, he had been so focused on his duty to aide in the battle against the Dark Lord, the awful conditions that had been in place since the infiltration and corruption by the enemy had not changed by much. Now that the Ministry had been given a year to think of things to fix, he was overwhelmed with paperwork.

He arrived in the designated meeting room, and no one else was there. He had expected this, as he was five minutes ahead of schedule. He sat at the head of the table and waited patiently for the Head of the Auror department to arrive, as well as the Auror who had been playing hooky. It was only a couple minutes before Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Department, entered and shook his hand.

"Good day, Minister." The Minister nodded his greeting and motioned for him to sit. Both men sat in silence, waiting.

"If she does not regularly show up to work, why would she show up to a disciplinary meeting?" asked the Minister after a few minutes. He had checked his watch and seen that it was two minutes past the designated time. This wasn't much of a problem; people were late, it was only human, but the thought had crossed his mind.

"She'll show up, Minister, or she will be fired." The Minister was a little concerned. "Is it not just a bit hard on the girl to fire her for missing days of work, even without reason?" Gawain scoffed.

"I'm sure if you were in my position with such an Auror on your hands you would do the same. She hasn't just missed work, but been so careless with her responsibilities. She has not accomplished one thing she said she would do. Not one. It's been a while, Minister, since she arrived as an Auror. I'm not sure she was ever cut out for the job." Just as his final syllables were spoken, the door opened and a female walked through, her hair in a mess and eyes frantic.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I thought I would take a shortcut through a department that has a possessed broom. It swapped me in the behind and chased me down until I reached the elevator. I really apologize, Gawain, minister."

She had an all too familiar face. In fact, the Minister recognized her so clearly because he had just seen her earlier today.

"Azalea Misgrathe, please, sit. We have much to discuss."


	11. Lost Hopes and Paper Planes

**Hyden's POV:**

I sat in the field. Just waiting. My heart skipped beats. I was sure that wasn't healthy.  _Heart palpitations; definitely not good._  I was barely breathing. Too nervous to even accept air. One question over all others. So many other questions. Millions upon millions. And one prevailed over all. Over and over.

I sat in the field, wondering where.

_Where?_  I was sure my brain was short-circuiting. That was the only word.

_Where?_  There were supposed to be other words. They just didn't want to show themselves.

_Where?_

I sat in the field, watching and listening and hoping. How odd for me to be waiting for him in a field he grew up in. I figured he would be here anyway, even if he had forgotten our date. Even if he didn't want to date me, I would understand. He could just tell me and spend the rest of his day happy here. There's no way that he would just not show up.

I sat. In  _his_ field. I thought it was our field, but maybe I was sorely mistaken. He probably didn't really want to share this with me. I had messed up from the start. There was nothing he wouldn't do to avoid me now. Even staying away from his own field.

_That's alright,_  I thought,  _I understand. I wouldn't want to date me, either, if I had screwed up._  Still, I had hope.

I sat in his field, hoping with all my power that he would arrive. Surely he would get tired of waiting for me to leave and would show up. If I waited long enough, he would show. Or maybe he realizes his mistake, and was willing to leave.

_But surely I'm not that bad, right?_

The sun was high in the sky, and slowly falling down. If I had a watch, I would have checked it, but alas, I did not. Only so long ago, I had apparated here. I hadn't seen him anywhere, and so I just waited for him to show. I was alright with him not being here early. And then I was alright with him not being on time. Lateness happens sometimes. We're all only human. And then I sat in his field and realized just how long it was taking him. Had he been held up? Was he busy? Had he forgotten? More minutes clicked by in what seemed to be hours upon hours. He had probably forgotten. Or he changed his mind about me. Or maybe the time had passed him by, and he just hadn't realized it yet. It was possible. Not very likely, but possible. I had decided to check his special world. He was nowhere on the path, or by the lake. I wasn't sure if he was in the forest, so I had called his name a few times, to no avail. He was simply not there.

And back to the present, I was sitting in his field once again. The grazing grasses swaying slightly in the blowing breeze in their mundane motions; I stared at them, and hoped to myself a wish that would not come true.

And yet I still waited.

There was something I just didn't want to lose out on. If he had arrived and explained that he didn't really want to be anything more than just friends, I would have lived. We could have run around and pretended to be children, just as friends, for the rest of our lives. I don't think I ever could have wanted anything more than freedom like what I had tasted with him. There was so much I just hadn't ever done, or had the chance to do, even. Being stripped of my childhood, he was all the hope I had left, whether he was a friend or more. Was it too much for me to ask for that? Honestly, was I asking for too much? After so many hopes during the war, had I reached my limit? Life was trying to tell me that I had crossed a line, calling me spoiled, and refusing me service. My harsh reality. I would live forever in a world that I hated. That was it; my limit for hope was up.

As simple as it was to leave and be done with waiting, I couldn't bear to do it. Leaving meant the end. Leaving meant there was absolutely no chance, for anything. Leaving meant desolation, and heartbreak, and confinement. All my hopes were mere pleas into the deaf ear that once granted pity and mercy. I couldn't bring myself to do such a thing. If he didn't show, I was sure that meant it was all done.

And so I sat in his field.

I ran a quivering hand through my hair, trying to get the strays away from my face, with no success of course.

_Why is my hand shaking so much?_  It fell back down to my side and I stared at it, numb. It was pale, and attached to my side. Nothing was odd about it at all. I stared for no reason. And then, from my face, fell one drop right onto my palm. One simple drop into my hand. With my other hand, I wiped at my face and found it covered in my tears. I had been silently crying and had not noticed. How had I not noticed?

_Where?_   _Where was he?_ I shook my head. He couldn't see me like this. I tried to dry all the tears, but they kept on coming.

_Where?_  He was simply busy doing something.

_Where?_  He just forgot about it.

_Where?_  He's not coming.

_Where?_  It's over. The decision was made. It was all just done.

I stood up and disapparated to the front of Hogwarts. I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn't want anyone to see them, but I took no precaution to hide them. I stared at the floor, walking the entire way to my room without looking, or even thinking. As soon as I arrived, I flopped right onto my bed and curled up into a ball.

All hope was lost.

* * *

**Cygnus's POV:**

Walking down a long hallway that never seemed to end. The walls were black, and the lamps were dim overhead. I walked on, my destination the door at the very end of the hall. Every step I got closer, and every minute I was farther. Every breath I was farther. Every blink I was farther. I stared to run, breaking into a sprint. For some reason, it was so important for me to catch that runaway door. There was a certain necessity to my arrival before its hinges; to reach my hand out and catch its doorknob and open it. Something told me it was what was behind the door that I was trying to get to.

_Hurry,_  a voice inside me cried. With all deliberate and possible speed, I raced toward the door, seeming to make progress, and yet not arriving any closer to the door. It was so pointless, it seemed, but I kept going.

Running as fast as I could, it wasn't long before I stopped altogether. I needed to rest, and catch my breath a moment. There had to be a smarter way to get to the door; some way that wouldn't take the door farther from me so I could catch it. That door was my key to whatever it was that I needed. I wasn't sure what, but I needed it. I took one careful step forward, only to have the door go further away. It was so far now; I could barely make it out in the dimness. I sighed and returned my foot back to its twin, and the door came back to its original distance. Curious, I stepped back a step, and the door came closer. Another step, and then another, and the door was closer still. As crazy as it sounds, I started running backwards, facing the door, watching it get closer and closer. After a few moments of this, the door crept up to me, and I reached out my hand and grabbed the knob. Twisting, I expected it to open, but it did not. It was locked.

_Hurry!_  I released the knob and yelled into the air, " _ **Alohomora!**_ "

Something clicked on the inside of the door, and I twisted the knob once again. To my delight, it opened. Inside, there was a bright sun sinking in the sky and tall, billowing grasses surrounding me. I sat up in my Sitting Spot, confused for a moment. Had I fallen asleep? Well, of course I had. I stretched like a cat, feeling so much better after. After sleeping in the dirt, I had a layer of earth covering me. I tried to wipe it off, but it only came off my clothes ( _which were magically charmed to repel dirt, dust, and all such things_ ). I got up and decided to take a bath in my lake. It would be nice, relaxing, and not to mention wake me up. It was bad to be so off a normal sleeping schedule.

I stripped off my clothes and jumped into my lake. It was cool, but not cold; just perfect. I broke through the surface of the water, with a smile on my face. It was so nice to be so clean again. I swirled around the lake, feeling like a diamond surrounded by sparkling waters and reflected light at every direction. I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of perfect forest that I loved so much, and then sunk underwater to release the air to make bubbles. It was the simple things in life that could make one person so happy.

A little girl in my mind was in a panic. She looked to her left and to her right in a field of nothing but mere grass.

"That thought flower has to be somewhere," she told herself. Her tiny hands separated the tall grasses fervently, trying to find where the flower could be hiding. Her eyes were starting to water in desperation. The flower seemed impossible to find in such a large field; would she ever find the flower she was looking for? It had to be found. She grabbed the attention of the other little girls, small, delicate tears streaming her face as she explained to them that she could not find the flower. All the little girls worked together, searching the endless field for any flowers at all. They searched their little hearts out, looking twice as hard as they ever had before. This was, after all, a very  _very_  important flower to find; it had to be somewhere in the field. Flowers cannot simply walk away. And yet, after so long, many of the little girls had given up their hopes of finding it, so stumped as to the location of the flower. How could a little flower be so talented in hiding? It had eluded most of them to the point of exhaustion, and many just had no energy to go on.

But the first little girl, whose job had been to pick the flower, still looked with as much determination as ever. It was her duty, of course. She wiped her eyes so her vision would not be blurry and affect her searching skills. Through the blades and blades of grass that she parted, she continuously found nothing. She would part some to her right, and find nothing, and then to her left, and still nothing. She would walk over a bit of ways and part again to her right, and left. And then again move and part through them once more, only to achieve the same result still. One more tear dripped from the corner of her glossy eye as she parted more grass. And yet, this felt different. One side was a bit heavy in wanting to return back to upright. She let her hands go, and then parted once more a little to the left. And there was a long, vibrant green stem and beautiful red, velvety petals. The little girl squealed in relief and picked the flower from the ground with all deliberate speed.

_I was supposed to have a date with Hyden._  I stopped moving. I might have even stopped breathing. I had been asleep so long. How long had I been sleeping? Was he still there?

_Oh fucking Merlin, it is FAR past two._  I smacked my forehead and quickly got out of the lake. I tried to dry myself using my clothes, but gave up and just put them on instead and ran to the entrance of my world and climbed back up to the field. The sun was sinking in the sky, showing sign of late day. He had showed up, and waited, and left. There was no way possible for me to screw up any worse. I had fallen asleep and he had left.

_Probably thinking that I had stood him up._  I smacked my forehead with my palm.

"How could I be so idiotic? Why would I fall asleep at the most inopportune time? I knew I would find some way to ruin this…" I slowly fell down to the ground, disappointed and angry at myself.

_One chance. One chance to make it all work and be happy, and I blew it out of the water._  It just went to show how my own mind was working against me to ruin all things good in my life.

As much as I loved having my own little world, it was very much taking its toll on my sanity. I enjoyed it all so much, but I really needed something else in my life to bring me back to the right state of mind. Or at least take me to an insane asylum. Something. I didn't care about many things, but I cared about that.

I also cared about Hyden. I could care less what we were, but he was important to me. He was a friend I couldn't lose. He was one shot at something greater. He was my key to freedom. And I had just ruined it past recognition. I had to at least attempt to fix it, even if I wasn't successful. I wouldn't blame him for not forgiving me. I had screwed up fairly bad.

I ran once more to my perfect world. Along the path, about halfway, I turned and headed into the forest instead of toward the lake. I continued on, knowing the path by memory, until I reached a clearing just large enough to hold all my things. It wasn't really clear anymore, because I had what belongings I had brought everywhere. I walked over to my Be-Anything Book ( _the book Hermione had sent me_ ), my ink, and quill, and took them to the lake. I opened the book and ripped out a page and began to write on it.

_Dear Hyden,  
Please, accept my most sincere apologies. It's really just ridiculous how stupid I am right now. To explain it all, I hadn't slept all night. I had made it all night until the early morning without any sleep at all. Really, I had been awaiting our date, trying to pass the time with small things. But of all the things to do, I fell asleep somewhere around the late morning. Only upon my waking up did I ever realize my awful mistake. I'm so sorry. If you can forgive me, I would love to reschedule. If you cannot, I understand._

_Sincerely,  
Cygnus_

I sighed, hoping it would work. I blew on the ink to dry it faster, and then folded the paper into an airplane. From my days during school, I could always send these paper airplane messages without any trouble. But to go so far was difficult to even imagine. At least, I assumed it was far. I positioned it on my hand, ready for takeoff, and blew.

It flew off my hand and into the air, doing loops and fantastic moves before going straight up through a hole above and left me.

* * *

**3rd Person POV:**

The little paper airplane soared through the air, just like a normal airplane. This aircraft had been blessed with one of the most experienced pilots around, Dr. Stilton Mages. Yes, he was a doctor, certified in not only in the medical field, but also in flying. His co-pilot, Mr. Jason Meadows, was not nearly as experienced, but very skilled as if he was. When an emergency occurred, Dr. Mages could always count on Jason Meadows to take control and fly the plane perfectly. And when the plane threatened to go down, Jason Meadows was there with his tool kit to fix anything that could ever happen. Together, they ran a top-notch paper airplane that would never even dream of going down.

Today, their plane carried a significant weight, if not in ink then in importance. Having so much pressure to succeed made Jason Meadows just a bit nervous, since he had only been in the business for a year or two and never had such a mission. Dr. Mages, however, was eager for the challenge, and took it on with all enthusiasm. Dr. Mages picked up the intercom and spoke to his passengers.

"Hello there, this is your captain speaking," said a gargled voice throughout the isles of the plane to the words written on the page.

"We're going to have a safe flight today on our trip to Hyden, seeing as how the weather is just about perfect. We are currently flying at a height of 16 feet, which is actually 192 inches. No need to feel panicked about that, folks. Being so high up is quite normal. Please, relax and enjoy your flight. Thank you for choosing Mages Mobile Airline." Jason Meadows kept looking at Dr. Mages out of the corner of his eye nervously.

"D-doctor Mages…have you ever…crashed landed during an important flight?"

Dr. Mages laughed heartily, both at the question and at Jason Meadow's nervousness.

"Never in my years have I crashed, especially during an important mission. Don't worry, my boy, we will be just fine. 'Ol Betsy here," he patted the plane right above the dashboard that held hundreds and hundreds of buttons, switches, and gauges, "will get us through without any trouble."

Reassured, Jason Meadows nodded and turned his attention back to steering and directions.

In the passenger part of the plane, Ms. Madeline Sawyer flipped her lush, light brown hair and pushed a cart of beverages to the front of the plane to pass out. She would smile and ask for drink orders, and hand it to the passengers, and then move onto the next row. Ms. Madeline was just about the kindest and most patient of all flight attendants. She truly loved her job, and had spent many years in the business, almost as many as Dr. Mages. Contrary to her appearance, however, she was a vital part to the plane. She was the only one who could calm the passengers in times of stress and panic, and keep a clever mind to solve problems.

Once, in the start of her career, a man had tried to hijack the plane. The people had been in such a panic, it was impossible to catch the man. She had quickly settled down the panic with a quick grab of attention and then soothing request to remain seated. The criminal, it had seemed, had disappeared in the chaos, but Ms. Madeline knew better. She told the passengers not to worry any longer, and continued to push the cart down the aisle. The hijacker had hidden himself in the restroom, and she planned to trap him there. Right when the door opened and the man's face was clearly visible, she rammed the cart against the door, knocking him backward and blocking the door from opening. She announced to a joyous crowd that the hijacker had been caught.

At the end of her run, she picked herself a drink from the cooler, a nice lemon-lime soda, and poured herself a glass, taking a sip before grabbing two more, with cups and napkins, to bring to the captains.

"Hello Dr. Mages, Mr. Meadows. I've brought you each a soda."

Dr. Mages smiled with perfect white teeth. "Oh thank you, Madeline. I really do appreciate it."

"I could use something bubbly. My stomach's been growling for a while now," said Mr. Meadows with a laugh.

Ms. Madeline smiled. "I'll get you some pretzels, then, Mr. Meadows. Can't fly a plane on an empty stomach, now can we?" She smiled and went back down the aisle to get a snack bag of pretzels for the co-captain.

Now with delicious soda in their stomachs, the pilots turned their attention back to steering. Dr. Mages pressed a few buttons here and there, and turned slightly left in his controls, Mr. Meadows following suit.

"We're right on target. We should arrive right on time."

"Oh yes. The winds are in our favor today."

"Here are your pretzels, Mr. Meadows."

"Why thank you, Madeline."

"You are most certainly welcome." She smiled and left to tend to a button that just buzzed somewhere in the aisle.

Dr. Mages looked out the windshield of the plane, into the distance, and furrowed his brow. "Hey, Meadows. Take a look at that. What's that there in the distance?"

Mr. Meadows, too, looked out the windshield, seeing the dark spot in the distance, not really sure what on earth it could be. "I don't know, Dr. Mages. It appears to be a spot. Are you sure it's not on the windshield?"

"I'm positive, Mr. Meadows. I just had it polished this morning."

"Do you think we 'outta raise our altitude to avoid it?"

Dr. Mages stared a few more seconds.

"That's probably best. We don't want to run into a bird, now do we?" He chuckled and pulled a few switches before speaking into the intercom once more.

"Hello, this is your captain speaking. It seems that there is a large black speck ahead of us. We don't yet know what this speck is, but we are raising our altitude to 18 feet, or 216 inches, to avoid said speck. Thank you for your patience."

Dr. Mages pulled his controls back, as did Mr. Meadows, and the plane smoothly rose up, higher into the air. After their change in height, the black dot that was below them rose to meet them at their new height. It grew closer and closer. Dr. Mages squinted at the windshield, and finally was able to decipher what the speck was.

"It's a bird. It's after us. We should take the correct precautions to deal with it."

Mr. Meadows nodded and turned to press a few buttons and pull a few switches. On the outside of the plane, two plates of the underside of the plane separated in a robotic manner, and a large gun descended from the space. The bird was very much closer now, black against the clear blue sky. Dr. Mages picked up a different set of controls while Mr. Meadows controlled the steering of the plane. Dr. Mages aimed appropriately, then waited for the bird to be within range. The bird grew closer, and closer, obvious in its attack of the paper plane.

The bird let out a big "CAAAAWWW" and was close enough now to make out details. Dr. Mages smacked a red button in the middle of his controls, and the gun fired. A large squirming worm shot out and landed directly inside the bird's beak. The bird was startled a moment, and then flew off in the other direction. The two pilots cheered, and Dr. Mages picked up the intercom as Mr. Meadows packed up the gun.

"Hello, this is your captain speaking. As it turned out, the speck was a bird, but no need to fear, we have already taken the necessary precautions, and now the bird is gone. We, fortunately, are very close to our destination. Ms. Madeline, please prepare for our assent."

Both pilots pushed some buttons and pulled back their controls to raise the plane up to the proper height. In the back, Ms. Madeline was walking through the aisle, asking the passengers to put up their snack trays and put on all seat belts. One passenger was concerned about the landing, for she was fragile and was not sure an elderly woman like herself could handle a bumpy landing.

"Don't worry, Ma'am. Our pilots, Dr. Mages and Mr. Meadows are very cautious with landing. They always achieve a perfect, smooth landing. No need to worry. If you would like, I can ask them to be extra gentle."

"Oh yes, Deary, thank you."

Ms. Madeline smiled and made her way back to the front of the plane. "Dr. Mages, Mr. Meadows, one of our elderly passengers has asked you kindly to be gentle when landing. She is very delicate."

Dr. Mages smiled. "Tell her not to worry. We're going to have a nice and soft landing."

Ms. Madeline nodded and smiled and made her way back to the elderly woman to tell her the news. They were at Hogwarts now, swirling around the school to get to the correct window. They caught all the air currents, blowing them in the right direction, and finally swooped right through their window.

"We have arrived at our destination," said Dr. Mages over the intercom.

"It's approximately a quarter after 4. May you have a lovely arrival. Thank you once again for choosing Mage Mobile Airline. We hope to see you again sometime."

The paper plane landed right on the edge of Harry's bed with a soft swish. That gentle landing had been a success. Harry had felt the breeze and looked to his open window, only to have his eyes meet the airplane instead. He rubbed at his now dry eyes and put on his glasses to read the note.

Harry grabbed the nearest quill and ink bottle he had, quickly wrote down a reply, and sent the airplane on its way.

"Hello, this is your captain speaking. We're going to have a lovely trip today to Cygnus. Please, enjoy your flight, and thank you for choosing Mage Mobile Airlines."


	12. Foreseen and Decoded

**3rd person POV:**

The weather outside was wonderful; beautifully sunny, just enough breeze to rustle the leaves of the trees. It was a perfect day to be outside, absorbing the rays of the sun and relaxing, or maybe enjoying a nice jog or walk. The grasses ever more green than ever on this day, with blooming flowers giving off the more natural of perfumes, filling the air with a sweet scent. The Minster, unfortunately, would not experience any of these things, for he was once again stuck in his office, filing important paperwork, and thinking hard about the meeting he had attended yesterday.

Running a hand across his forehead, and finishing off one last signature on one pile of papers, the Minister sighed.

" _Minister,"_ Gawain had said after the scolded Auror had left,  _"while it may be appropriate to remove her from the Ministry, we cannot afford to lose her right now. She may not do much, but having an empty spot would hurt the Auror department so much more. There are just not enough skilled wizards of witches to replenish our division."_  The Minister had to think of some alternative.

Unfortunately, there were no witches or wizards interested in the Auror department. These days, witches and wizards graduated from Hogwarts and went back into the muggle world, or traveled the world, or went into some other department in the Ministry. And the last one was a small percentage, usually after a few years of the student's last year at Hogwarts. It wasn't much that students were not achieving the grades they needed; in fact, the average student nowadays was receiving grades that were perfect for, if not, very close to, becoming an Auror. They just didn't have the spirit to fight if they knew there was no serious threat facing them and the ones they loved, or they had fought too much already.

A great distance away, across towns, and hills, and lakes, and sky, stood Hogwarts, proud and strong as it always had been, if not still in repair. There were still passages, underground and above, that had not been restored quite fully. While Headmistress McGonagall had her and the other teachers work hard each day to fix as much of each passageway, she knew that the underground ways would require more magic and more time to fully recover; a job that would have to wait until the school year was over, so as not to endanger the students.

In her office, McGonagall was pacing in front of her desk, a habit she had never believed she would have picked up. She had much to be concerned with, such as the security of the school for the last few days that the year lasted. After the big battle, the schools defenses had been completely destroyed, and they had only begun to scratch the surface of replacing all the charms that had been upon it previously. McGonagall was sure there had even been some protection charms she had never known about, maybe that even Dumbledore had never known about. Continuing on with this school year had been, for the most part, a rather large test of what threats were still out there, wishing to cause harm. There had been nothing, thankfully, to put any of the school at risk, for McGonagall knew that the moment even a small threat came along, the school would be forced to close. They were on a very thin leash.

There was a knock at her door, to which McGonagall replied, "Enter." In stepped a shivering divination professor, eyes as large and bug-like as ever through her glasses.

"Hello, Sybil, what can I do for you?" asked McGonagall in a stern tone. Trelawney stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"I was in my classroom, reviewing the great art of reading the unknown from crystal balls, when I felt a slight change in manner of the universe. My Inner Eye felt that I should warn you of the ripples caused. Do take care, Minerva, for I have foreseen much in the leaves about what shall come."

"Yes, of course" McGonagall replied after a moment of silence. Trelawney's visits had become more frequent through the year, all saying nothing of importance, other than the repeated "ripples" she always mentioned. She had come last about a month ago, and before that, three months. McGonagall passed it off as nothing important to dwell on ( _as many others did_ ).

"I'm afraid I feel a bit ill," Trelawney turned back to the door, and grabbed the door knob, only to stop where she was.

McGonagall sighed, "Sybil, there is no need for your fore warnings to take caution if there is nothing that threatens the well-being of the students or staff at this school. Please, you may leave my office." But Trelawney did not move. She began to wheeze, and through her throat spoke a ghostly voice, raspy and ominous.

" _Within the coming days it shall occur… On the anniversary of a secret only the two themselves know, a living force abandoned by the young heir rises… The orphaned one knows this force well as it returns to him at last…strength too large to deny envelops around an enmity. Upon their bodies they bare marks of separate paths…yet their future intertwined indefinitely…their bodies…marked by separate paths…"_  Trelawney gasped and coughed for breath. She turned back around to face a shocked McGonagall.

"I'm sorry, dear, did you say something?"

McGonagall snapped out of her shock and ushered Trelawney on, "Not at all. Thank you, Sybil, for your time."

Trelawney nodded and left the Headmistress's office with ease, unaware of what had just occurred. Once the door was shut, McGonagall stood from her seat behind the desk and made her way to her mirror near the window of her office. Her hair had grown more and more dense with grey as each year progressed on, with it sucking a bit of her youth and energy to create such absence of color. Pulling out her wand from her robes and placing its tip to her head, she pulled what she had just witnessed from her mind in the form of a silvery thread, placing it in a small flask. Inside, the thread spread around, neither liquid nor gas. Another wave of her wand and the full length mirror swung open as a door to reveal a small storage closet full of the little flasks, each with a date engraved upon the bottle. McGonagall placed the flask next to her last one, dated a few months before. As she closed the room, showing the mirror once more, the flask dated itself.

"Everard," said said, and the portrait of a past headmaster nodded curtly, "Please, if you could, get me the Minister. I wish to speak to him about what has just happened. It may be quite important."

With a brief reply of confirmation, the man left.

The Minister had been continuing on with his thoughts, finding hiring a recruiter more and more to his liking, when a small painting to his left began to speak.

"Minister, your presence has been requested in the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts."

The Minister nodded and made his way to the fireplace, tossing in the dust-like powder, and stepping inside the emerald flames. "Hogwarts, Headmistress's office".

When the Minister arrived, he found McGonagall pacing in front of her desk, stopping only when she saw him arrive.

"Minister, I have just visited with Sybil Trelawney. It seems we have another prophecy to decipher."

* * *

**Cygnus's POV:**

Once again, I sat in my Sitting Spot, waiting for time to pass by, wishing it would move faster for just a few hours and then slow back down so I didn't have to wait so long. I didn't dare close my eyes for a second, not that I was even tired anymore. I had wasted yesterday; ruined it because I couldn't sleep like a normal person, at night. I was so hopeless. It was hard to believe I was still trying. One would think that after so many failures in life that I would get the message. I would have something in my grasp, something so valuable to me, and I would enjoy it, and then it would slip through my fingers, falling to the ground with a big thud, and it would shatter. Life would come around then, with its scolding finger, reprimanding me about my mistakes.

" _See, Draco? This is why you cannot have nice things. You always break them. Everything you touch. Now get the broom and clean up your mess."_

I held my face in my hands, apologizing to Life about my clumsiness, or carelessness; the two were one and the same. Like a spoiled child, I would ask for another, and as my stern parent, Life shook its head.

_"Learn to take better care of your things, Draco."_

If there really was some ultimate being out there--Destiny, Mother Nature, whatever muggles believed in--they hated me. They loved to hand me what I needed, and then rip it from my hands and watch me struggle, like some sick joke. Honestly, it would just be better to not take the items at all, but like a moth to the flame, I always was drawn to things like this.

I felt as if I was not worth the things I had. I had once had a lot; been the cherished child of a wealthy and prestigious pure-blood Wizarding family, surrounded by power and knowledge and followers. I needn't worry about anything, because I would have the latest things before I even wanted them. New broom coming out soon? It was on my bed the moment it was available, or before, depending on how persuading my father was. I had the best cauldrons, books, ingredients for potions, telescopes. All this was a dream come true for most people; all their troubles would be answered. And yet...

And yet my father existed.

" _Well MY SON is just about the best in his year. He is, of course, naturally gifted in Potions class. He has the fastest broom, the new Nimbus that doesn't come out in stores until tomorrow. He's already taken it for a test ride. Oh yes, his robes were SPECIALLY MADE. I paid extra for his dress robes to have the inner lining made of silk. I can't have my Draco go to the formal dinners wearing common cloth. It would itch his skin. I also had a lovely pattern embroidered along the sleeve edges. They're little green and silver slithering snakes…Draco, sit up straight. Your slouching will wrinkle your robes. Draco, you will hold your tongue in front of your mother and I. Draco, do not speak unless you are spoken to or I will be forced to remind you of who is in charge. Draco, do not disgrace the Malfoy name! Draco, you will tell the healers that this was an accident. Draco, hide your bruises or I will give you more!"_

I felt angered with my past self. How could I let things get so out of hand? Why did I not see earlier that I was not being pampered, but used? Lying back in the grass, I stared at the empty, pale blue sky. Was there a point to all this? Was my entire existence just a sign that I was only designed to be an empty shell, dressed and taught how to be perfect--and that anything else was to disgrace the family name.

Except that I was never perfect. It was all an act.

There were not any other wealthy families to converse with, since the trial. There would be no bragging, as they did not want my father anywhere near them. Hell, they probably wouldn't want my presence either. In their eyes, I was my father's son. In their eyes, I would rule the manor with the same principles long after my father had passed. In their eyes, I was mini Luscious Malfoy. But think as they want, I would not turn out to be him. I didn't care how many things I lost in the process. That perfect world was far from perfect, and I wanted no part of it.

* * *

**3rd Person POV:**

At the Ministry, each and every floor held something unique. None, however, like level nine. The Department of Mysteries held many treasures inside it, which many wizards and witches have never laid their eyes upon before, but only heard rumors of. None who worked in the Department were allowed to speak, as never to reveal the many secrets such a department contained. From day to day, the workers checked upon everything, keeping what needed to be kept, changing what needed to be changed, and distancing themselves from what needed to be untouched. One man now, with no wish to utter a single word of his work, stood before a row of glass orbs, most glowing with a strange, wispy white light inside them.

At the latest row, the most recent orb sat, with holes in the inscription that were needing to be filled. Pulling out his wand, the man used a special spell to engrave the proper names into the inscription.  _S.P.T to M.M._  he wrote at the very top.

Looking at the bottom names, he questioned to himself what sort of prophecy could contain the two people whose names were on the little piece of parchment he held, straight from the Minister himself. Of course, ever since the battle in the Department of Mysteries, much of the magic used to automatically record the people involved was used, instead, to reinforce the boundaries of the hall to ensure that only people involved in a prophecy and registered Unspeakables could even enter the room. And anyway, the spell to record names had minor bugs, often missing the engraving plate and instead engraving the record of the prophecy, causing it to fall over and break.

The man wondered how it was even possible to figure out who was involved with only vague hints. In his perspective, it could have been anyone.

_*flashback*_

Of course, McGonagall and the Minister had felt it necessary to call a meeting to the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix and discuss the importance of the prophecy. After the last prophecy, both McGonagall and the Minister agreed, they needed to be sure there was no danger involved. As each member arrived, McGonagall thought more and more about how she did not send out a message to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, or any other of the students who had once formed Dumbledore's Army. Increasingly, she felt wrong by this, even if they had no concern over the prophecy. She thought to herself more, pacing once again, and finally decided to send a message to Hermione, whose brains had never failed in times of need.

Everyone took a seat as the Minister called them to order, McGonagall to one side and Aberforth Dumbledore on his other.

"My friends, we have called to you on a very important discussion today. Minerva-" he began, but was interrupted by a crack and the appearance of one Hermione Granger, who upon realizing she had interrupted, quickly took her seat, apologizing.

"Minerva has just heard the latest prophecy, given by none other than Sybil Trelawney. We have not yet understood its meaning, and we hope that you may help us uncover it. This prophecy may be nothing, at which point you may leave and continue on with your day carefree, or it could be greatly ominous for the future, in which case we will then discuss our actions." He gestured over to McGonagall who stood and began to recite the prophecy she had copied down earlier upon a piece of parchment.

" _Within the coming days it shall occur. On the anniversary of a secret only the two themselves know, a living force abandoned by the young heir rises. The orphaned one knows this force well as it returns to him at last. Strength too large to deny envelops around an enmity. Upon their bodies they bare marks of separate paths, yet their future intertwined indefinitely. Their bodies marked by separate paths._ "

"It is quite a riddle," the Minister said after a moment of deadening silence.

The Minister sat as McGonagall sent around the piece of parchment so the others could read it. The parchment touched the hands of every member at least four different times throughout the meeting, each holding onto the paper for at least five minutes. Many members left, feeling unable to help with the decoding, with the request to be called upon once more if the prophecy was, indeed, dangerous. Aberforth left, as did the Weasleys, and then Doge, Jones, and many of the teachers at Hogwarts, leaving only Hagrid, Hermione, the Minister, and McGonagall at last.

"You were right, 'ere, Minister. Tha' there is quite tha riddle. Sorry, but I'm afraid I 'ought to be goin'. Getting' mighty late." Hagrid set off with a wave from McGonagall and a hug from Hermione.

Indeed, the sky outside had turned pink and orange with the setting sun. McGonagall paced before her desk ( _since she could not do so earlier with so many people crammed inside her office_ ). Somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged that her pacing habit was becoming as bad as Dumbledore's had been.

Hermione had the answer on the tip of her tongue. "Well, we've determined one is an orphan and one is the heir to something. We assume that they are not the same person, though the prophecy never really says that they are different people. They have some sort of hatred, either between them or for something else, I suppose. Really, they could just hate the same thing, it's not very clear. And then there is this force, which we have no idea about other than one abandoned it and one knows it. Although, if they're the same person, it could be that they knew it, then abandoned it…"

At this, McGonagall realized something. "No, Ms. Granger, the heir and the orphan must be different people. One cannot still be an heir if one has no parents. They would simply own what has been left to them."

"Of course…" Hermione thought, knowing she had over-looked that fact too easily. "So then one of the people must be orphaned, and the other an heir." She scribbled that down.

"So then the heir abandoned the force while the orphan knew it. The force could be magic, then. The heir felt no need for magic if he was inheriting things, while the orphan clung to it."

"Possibly…" mumbled the Minister, lost in deep thoughts of what this prophecy could mean for his people. If the force was magic, there could be a serious issue with the orphaned child knows magic well  _and_  has a force to help make power…

"These marks have to be significant. They can't just be simple birthmarks, their past has marked them due to the choices they made. They could be scars, wounds…but they have to contradict each other. I don't think birthmarks contradict each other. Maybe something from the last war; wounds from either side. Maybe some unforgivable curse wounds versus some hexes. What I don't understand at all is the anniversary of secret pain. Obviously only they know about it, but it doesn't say what sort of pain. For all we know it could mean a war or the end of a relationship…really, it's vague."

"They could be related by blood," said the Minister. "Obviously not brothers, but maybe cousins. One is the heir to something while the other has no parents. They hate each other due to some disagreement."

"They could've been on different sides of the war. One with Voldemort, one with Harry. With scars to prove…" Hermione did not finish her sentence. Within the complicated twists and turns of her mind, a door had just unlocked itself, revealing that her answer had been there the entire time, just now bothering to show itself. She went scarlet in her cheeks, a deep color that would have matched nicely with Ron's hair. 

Sensing her sudden silence, McGonagall looked to Hermione. "What is it, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione reread the prophecy again just to be sure…

_Within the coming days it shall occur. On the anniversary of a secret only the two themselves know, a living force abandoned by the young heir rises. The orphaned one knows this force well as it returns to him at last. Its strength too large to deny envelops around an enmity to create power. Upon their bodies they bare marks of separate path, yet their future intertwined indefinitely. Their bodies marked by separate paths._  Yes, it all fit…

"Oh Professor…it's…um…it's nothing important. The prophecy, I mean."

McGonagall gave Hermione a curious look. "Oh really? What gives you that impression?" The Minister, too, looked quite ready to hear what she had to say.

"This is…embarrassing, really. I didn't except a prophecy to come from it. There was no way to realize that I could do anything of this magnitude…" she said, more to herself than the others.

"What have you done?" asked the Minister.

"I…well…just to explain the prophecy: The young heir is Draco Malfoy, the orphan is Harry Potter. The marks they talk about, Harry's scar and Draco's dark mark, each from a different side of the war. They pretty much hated each other at Hogwarts, as I'm sure you know, Professor. I…don't know what exactly the anniversary is of, but they had a lot of fights and arguments, not hard to pick one…"

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "And the force?"

Hermione chewed her lip. "Love?"

There was a moment's silence.

"I'm afraid I do not understand, Ms. Granger…" said the Minister.

"Well…I-tricked-Harry-and-Draco-into-disguising-themselves-as-other-people-and-got-them-to-talk-to-one-another-so-they-could-fall-in-love-because-Draco-has-secretly-been-in-love-with-Harry-since-third-year-and-I-think-Harry-was-starting-to-care-about-him-too." Hermione had spoken fast, and so the words sank in only a minute or two after she had finished speaking.

"I see…" McGonagall said at last. She really had no idea what to think. There was not a moment ever in her years teaching Harry and Draco had she ever thought either of them would even remotely like the other as just friends, let alone anything else. She had been positive they had hated each other's guts. Obviously, she was mistaken. "But this power created from…love. What could that be, Ms. Granger?"

"I don't know, Professor." She said quietly. She had just absorbed that the ramifications of what she had caused could prove to be a serious threat indeed… "And the anniversary…only they know about it."

"Surely you could ask Mr. Potter?"

Hermione met McGonagall's eyes and nodded. "I'll let you know what I find."

"Do hurry, Ms. Granger. We have only days, as the prophecy said."

Hermione nodded and turned to the door, and left for Harry's room near Gryffindor Tower, though she would not find him there.

The Minister took a piece of parchment, scribbled down the names, and sent them off with an owl directly to the Department of Mysteries for the man to engrave. The man thought it absurd for Malfoy and Potter to ever be related in the same prophecy. He was sure that it must be some mistake., especially since Potter was already part of a prophecy already. Nevertheless, he finished engraving the names, and left, the piece of parchment catching fire and turning to ash the minute the man stepped outside of the Hall of Prophecy.

* * *

**Hyden's POV:**

For the longest time, I just sat staring at the ceiling. Then, I got up and stood staring out the window. After a while, I grew restless, so I grabbed my broom and jumped out my window, thankful for the lovely day. With the wind whipping through my hair, I lost myself for a while. When the sun rose high in the sky at last, I flew over to the entrance of Hogwarts, and apparated, broom and all.

I arrived at the grassy field again, unsure if I should actually venture further into it, or rather wait for Cygnus to show. It was not long before a face rose out of the tall grass upon hearing my entrance and smiled. He rose with much grace ( _as a man of his structure should not_ ), and came to meet me where I stood, his smile fading to a more somber expression.

"I'm sorry. I…I messed up." His face was genuine, and still, I could not help but feel like I did not belong in his field.

"It's fine. Happens to the best of us." I shrugged. What else was I to do?

"Why did you bring your broom?" He looked to my side.

I shrugged once again and placed it down in the grass. "I was flying just before I came."

"Are you any good?"

_Oh yeah, I'm told I natural. Best seeker Hogwarts ever had since my first year…_  "I'm alright. Not the best."

Cygnus picked up my broom. "Mind if I have a go? I haven't been on a broom since… in ages."

"Sure, go ahead."

He mounted the broom with ease and took off, flying through the air as fast as he could, doing figure eights, spirals, anything he could think of. His black hair was pulled back by the force of the wind, and his bright blue eyes were wide and happy. I imagined myself in his place, seeing almost an exact fit of why I enjoy flying. The rush, the freedom, the moves; all of it made flying so much more than a sport. I smiled, too, as I realized that he had needed something like this since he had gone so long without it.

His feet touched back down, and he got off and handed me my broom back, his face dropping the excitement quite quickly.

"Thanks."

My smile only grew wider. I placed my broom down and stood again. "I have a great idea," I said, grabbing his hand and apparating away.

We arrived in a dark alley, perfectly where I had planned. As we emerged, the broom shop was right there, a new Firebolt out on display for all to see. With some galleons in my pocket, I pulled Cygnus alongside me into the store.

"Pick one," I stated simply as we entered upon broom after broom on every wall, from old Shooting stars to the very new Firebolt, and every model in between.

"Oh, I couldn't." Cygnus took a step back, hands coming up to shake his rejection in time with his head. "It's fine. You don't have to get me a broom."

"Alright, then. I'll pick one for you."

Stepping forward and glancing about the shop, I saw a sleek Nimbus 2001 on the wall. Ages ago, it seemed, I had been in possession of my very own Nimbus 2000, before it was split into pieces by the Whomping Willow. I passed onward, with an unsure Cygnus behind me muttering things such as, "Really, there's no need…ooh, but it's so… Honestly, I don't…but if you insist…" I finally made my way over to the Firebolt II ( _the newest version of my own broom, apparently_ ) and flipped over the price tag. While I could honestly say it was worth quite a lot, more than I had with me, I would buy it anyway. If not for Cygnus as a...whatever we were, then for his love for flying.

"I'll be right back." I apparated away to Gringotts, having a little Goblin take me to my vault since I had my key, and removed the appropriate amount of money to buy it. I apparated back soon enough. Cygnus was looking over the broom lovingly as I made my way to the counter to purchase the broom, paying no attention that I had arrived. It was an easy transaction, and before long, I made my way to Cygnus and removed the broom from the display.

"What are you doing?"he asked.

I looked to Cygnus, amused at the confused on his face. "Taking this down so we can go back and race it."

His eyes widened. "You bought it? It was…pretty expensive," his voice shrinking a bit.

"It was nothing. Really, I have nothing to spend my money on anyway."

It was true. The last time I had been to Gringotts had been a while ago. There wasn't much money I needed these days. I grabbed his arm and we apparated back to the field exactly where we had been before, my Firebolt still on the ground. Handing him his new broom, I picked up my own.

"Let's see how fast your new broom is."

We both mounted our brooms. In a great imitation of Madam Hooch, I said "On my whistle! 3, 2…" I kicked off, as did Cygnus. We zoomed forward, with him only inches ahead of me.

The wind ran through my hair once more, and yet, with Cygnus by my side and only the field below us and the sky above us, I felt so much more freedom. There was nothing to stop me from going as high, fast, and crazy as I wanted to. Cygnus beside me seemed to be thinking the same. With a constant speed going forward on my broom, I carefully got up and stood up on the handle. I was surfing through the air with ease. Moving my feet appropriately, I turned left, then right, up, then down, never losing my balance. Pulling up beside me was an upside-down Cygnus with a large smile on his face.

"Neat trick."

"I've had practice." I smiled, remembering my first catch of the snitch quite clearly ( _I had nearly swallowed it, after all_ ).

The day easily slipped away from us. It wasn't long before the sun sank down below the horizon and the moon began its great journey to its throne high in the sky. Even when the night had come, and darkness engulfed all remaining sunlight, Cygnus and I still enjoyed what was left of the day. After a while, we had made our way back to the ground and then underground, splashing around in his lake.

He showed me what made the pool magic. He placed a leaf inside it, and once it touched the surface, it became water and sunk back into the lake, not even a ripple showing from the movement, still keeping the look of glass it had in the moonlight. I touched it once more, really expecting the surface to be smooth and solid, but once again my hand slipped through and a ripple was sent through the water.

"Does it change with the seasons?"

Cygnus shook his head. "No, this entire place is always one season. But…" he trailed off, running into the thickness of the forest.

I looked around, but was unable to see anything past the edge of the trees. I sat for a few moments, wondering where he had gone. It was much more awkward to sit by the lake when Cygnus was not there.

He returned from the shadows holding a book in his hand. Stopping just barely before the edge of the lake he held out his hand.

"Could I borrow your wand a moment?"

Without question, I pulled out my wand and handed it to him. He opened his book right at the beginning, flipped one page and then began a very complicated spell process from which light blue sparkles fell from the tip of my wand onto the surface of the lake, dancing across it like tiny ballerinas, graceful and agile. The sparkles spread over the entire top, reflecting the moon's light like it never had before. And before long, the spell was finished, and the sparkles faded into nothing.

"What'd you do?" I asked curiously.

He smiled and shook my wand as if it were a salt shaker, and out came snow. It drifted down slowly, taking its time. More and more snowflakes came out behind it, falling to the lake almost in slow motion. Cygnus shot the spell right above the lake, and more snow erupted from there. The first flake hit the surface, and stayed there, not a ripple in sight.

Confused, I touched the water again, to find it was as solid as possible. With a smile I placed my hand on it and pushed, finding the ice lake perfectly glass-like. I stood up and carefully stepped onto it, finding it would definitely hold my weight. Another step, and then another; I went it out to the middle of the lake with a smile on my face. Cygnus joined me, handing me my wand back.

A quick flick of my wrist, and our shoes transfigured into ice skates. There were not a lot of times in my life that I had ever been ice skating, but I knew it could not be as difficult as some things had been in my life, like learning to apparate, defeating Voldemort, or passing any class Snape taught. I was sure that ice skating had to be easier than 5 years in a potions classroom with Professor Snape. I slid one foot forward and sort of pushed off with my other, skidding off a bit. Cygnus did not move. As it seemed, Cygnus had not been ice skating at all in his life. It must be a muggle thing.

I turned around, grabbed Cygnus' hand, and pulled him forward. He noticeably clenched his jaw and lost a bit of his balance. I smiled.

"It's alright. You just have to keep your balance. It's like riding a bike."

"A what?"

_Right…another muggle thing._  "Uh…nevermind. Just try to keep your weight on one foot at a time. Once you get it, it becomes a natural thing. Hard to forget."

Cygnus cautiously slid one foot forward, and then the next after it, like he was trying to walk without removing his feet from the ground. He moved a foot forward again, and his other foot began to slide back. Panicked, he made a sudden jerk, causing himself to lose balance. Instant reflexes kicking in, I grabbed him. When everything was steady again, my arms were wrapped around his waist and his hands held onto them; we had frozen to prevent another loss of balance. His racing heart slowed in his chest. At once, I had seen that the snowing had stopped.

We crashed into the lake once more as it turned liquid again and the remaining snow was absorbed into the water. The skates were holding us down. Pulling out my wand, I transfigured them back into our shoes again. Together, we broke the surface, laughing at the unexpected drop. I started swimming to the edge when a wave of water crashed right over my head. Wiping the water off my face, I turned and saw Cygnus with a huge smile on his face.

With a laugh, I splashed him back. Back and forth, we splashed one another, laughing a bit ( _as much as we could without getting water in our mouths_ ). When the water cleared I got an idea. Pulling my wand from my pocket, I shot Cygnus with a spell, he looked startled at first, with a big bubble around his head, but he understood quickly when I put one around my head too.

" _ **Lumos**_ " I said, muffled by the bubble, and we dove into the lake.

If I had thought the forest and lake side was beautiful, I was most mistaken. After going deeper into the lake a few feet, where darkness usually clouded around, there was so much color and life. Neat little rainbow fish swam around us, or hid in the bright orange and red coral or between blades of dark green seaweed. From behind a large rock, a miniature part-horse-part-fish creature emerged, but then changed quickly into a large serpent when it saw us.

_Kelpie…_ I temporarily let my light go from my wand the moment the serpent bared its fangs and headed toward us.

" _ **Aresto Momentum**_ " I mumbled inside my bubble. The flash of the spell revealed the Kelpie-serpent closer to us still, and I could feel Cygnus behind me, pulling me quickly in another direction.

" _ **Lumos**_ " and the tip of my wand lit again to reveal a very slow moving Kelpie heading toward us. Cygnus kept pulling me, I noticed, down instead of up. We dove in deeper and saw at least a dozen plimpies walking along the lake bottom, all bumping into one another, falling over and getting back up again. Cygnus picked one up, tied its legs together, and brought it up to the still slow moving Kelpie-serpent. With a gentle toss, the plimpy landed in between the serpent's teeth. In slow motion, the serpent changed back into its horse-fish form and bounced the plimpy on its head like a ball.

" _ **Finite.**_ " The Kelpie returned to its normal speed, bouncing the plimpy-ball carefree.

We resurfaced, the bubbles popping once we had reached the air. With smiles on our faces we climbed out of the lake, our clothes soaked but the temperature nice and warm. I lay with my back on the soft grass looking up at the night sky through the holes, seeing the stars shine so beautifully. Cygnus leaned over me so I could see only his face and blue eyes. For a moment, my heart stopped. Then Cygnus shook his head like a dog, sending little drops of water everywhere, and I laughed as I shielded my face. Cygnus fell back and looked up at the sky right beside me.

"You know," he said, "Someone once told me that the light from stars has to travel so far to reach us, that the star could be gone, and we would still see its light."

"Yeah?"

"The star leaves kind of a legacy. The light goes on for a while, even if the star is gone. That's the star's last memory."

A moment of silence passed us by. I sat up and looked over at Cygnus, his eyes shining in the light, looking almost grey in the moonlight. When he looked over at me he smiled and covered his eyes.

"Alright," he said, his tone begrudging, "shake away. I deserve it."

I smiled, because I wasn't going to shake my hair. I leaned in and moved his hand from his face with ease. Gently, I lowered my lips onto his. His hands came up to hold my face. I could feel my lungs temporarily give up on breathing, and my heart slowed to a stop. A century passed, and we parted.

"I'm glad this happened," I said quietly. "Because I'm sure it wouldn't have if you hadn't overslept."

He smiled and I lay back down by his side, and we gazed at the stars together until sleep overcame us.


	13. To Wait

**Hermione's POV:**

I had waited by Harry's door for hours. While his door wasn't locked, he wasn't there, and there was no point in being inside his room ( _it wasn't exactly clean…_ ). The night passed by dully, and eventually I gave up. I borrowed a piece of parchment, and wrote down a letter quickly for him whenever he decided to show up again.

_Dear Harry,  
I came to talk to you about something, but you were not here. When you get back, come find me. It's pretty important._

_Hermione_

I put it onto his pillow and left for the Burrow, falling asleep almost right after I arrived.

Once I woke in the morning, I told Ron and George everything. Ron listened, straight-faced, while I spoke, almost as if he was taking the time to process everything I was saying. When I finished, he looked confused.

"I didn't know there were prophecies about love. What do you think their secret power is?"

I sighed. "I don't know."

George added, "Who knew love could give you superpowers?"

Ron scoffed. "This is serious, George."

"Right," George said. "Well, as soon as Harry replies again, we should go and find out what he thinks about this prophecy."

" _We?_ " I said, "I don't recall this being a group effort. In fact, this whole thing is my doing, and I think I'm more than capable to talk to Harry about this." I crossed my arms. "Besides, we can't tell Harry about the prophecy. He has no idea who Cygnus really is, and I'm not about to ruin this whole thing before they're ready to know."

The two sat in silence; Ron concentrating hard and George trying to find a retort to what I had said, but being unable to find one suitable to use ( _I was sure, however, that he had thought of something, at least_ ). We all sat, not speaking, rather lost in our own thoughts. To myself, I planned out exactly what I would say and how he would reply, playing the scenario over and over again, accounting for the various things Harry could say.

_I'm sure he'll wonder why I'll be asking so many questions about Draco._  I thought over this for a while, letting the sun grow higher in the sky, easily passing the time waiting for some message from Harry to arrive. Surely he would be waking up at any moment now to that letter ( _probably on the floor now if he slept on it, or possibly somewhere beside his bed if he found it before going to sleep_ ), and would be sending a Patronus, or using the Floo Network, or apparating here.

_Soon enough_ , I told myself,  _Harry will be sending his reply._  The moment I thought it, time seemed to slow down significantly, transfiguring itself from a jogging hippogriff to a sprinting snail.

"D'ya think Harry's awake yet?" Ron asked quietly, trying not to shatter the silence so much with his question.

"Well if  _you're_  up, Ron, surely Harry must be up and dressed by now. Probably even taken a stroll around Hogwarts a couple times, too." George said, though without much conviction, removing from the humor and adding to the growing impatience we all felt.

Nothing arrived still, and the day continued on without bothering to consider us waiting to receive Harry's message. To pass the time, we chatted about unimportant things, such as the weather, or how George's business was going, or how quiet the house was when it was empty ( _since Mr. Weasley was at work, Mrs. Weasley was visiting Bill's new house on the coast of England, and Ginny was at school_.) I took to tracing the pattern in the couch with the tip of my forefinger while Ron and George stared around the house. A great wall of silence settled over us as we continued to wait, possibly in vain at this point. It crossed my mind more than once that Harry might not reply at all, and I was positive I wasn't the only one to think that.

Giving in to his impatience and hastily crushing the silence, Ron stood and yelled, "Has he even read the stupid letter? Hermione, just send him a Patronus already!"

I sighed. "I can't, Ron," I said quietly. "What if he's with Draco? Then it would reveal that he knows me, since Draco knows my Patronus is an otter. It would be fishy if some random stranger knew your best friend, unless they were actually someone you knew already. And Draco knows I can change people's appearances already…"

"Yes, we get it." George supported his chin with his palm and placed his elbow on his knee.

"You can't owl him?"

"Well, no. If he was with Draco, then the letter might not be only read by Harry. I couldn't really send him a message he would understand without giving away to Draco who I was and who Harry really is. Plus Draco knows our owl."

"And we can't firecall him, apparate to him, or anything, since we have no idea where he is other than not at Hogwarts," said Ron.

"Yes. So, it's best we just wait here for Harry's reply."

Ron sat back down beside me on the couch and lay back so his head was faced toward the ceiling. "He's going to take his sweet time to reply to us, isn't he?"

I sighed. "I'm afraid so…"

* * *

**Hyden's POV:**

After being up more than half the night staring at the stars, I had slept in later than normal, waking with a stretch on soft grass next to a beautiful man with black hair and the most lovely blue eyes that matched the sky on a spring day. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even and deep; a sure sign that he was still sleeping. I was tempted to wake him and spend every moment I could with him before I was forced to go back to my room and change so I could come back again and spend the rest of the day here with him. I loved him, I could just tell, and the thought of spending another day with him was a perfect one.

The morning beams shone through the holes in the ground above us, reflected in the lake to create a glass-like effect on the water and a show of light on the edge of the forest. It was amazing to think that there were living beings, beasts even, in those waters when the surface looked so completely calm and still, as if air couldn't even make it move. I looked back to Cygnus, so peaceful and happy in his sleep.

_If I leave now and rush through getting ready, maybe I can be back before he wakes up again._ I stood up quietly and made my way into the forest a bit of a way before I apparated, so I wouldn't startle Cygnus's sleep.

I arrived in front of Hogwarts and quickly made my way up to my room. Once there, I ran about like mad, rushing to shower quickly, change clothes, brush my teeth, and comb my hair ( _even if the ring made it seem like I always had perfect hair, I could feel my hair standing up straight and it bothered me_ ). I sat on my bed, trying quickly to pull on my pants, when I heard the crumpling of parchment beneath me. I sat up and pulled it up to find a letter from Hermione.

_She has to talk to me about something? Why now? I need to get back to Cygnus._ I went and found my other pants and pulled my wand from my pocket.  _My date last night with Cygnus…_

" _ **Expecto Patronum**_." My ghostly stag appeared and ventured off to inform Hermione that I would talk to her later, and that I had some business to attend to ( _though I didn't mention what sort of business_ ). I quickly pulled my clean pants on, shoved my wand into my pocket, replaced my ring on my finger, and rushed out of my room back down to the entrance of Hogwarts so I could apparate back to the field. I hadn't even bothered to put on shoes, as I wouldn't need them if I was to spend the day with Cygnus in the field.

I passed the Great Hall, empty since breakfast was long over, when a white, almost-invisible otter came my way.

"Harry," it said in Hermione's voice, "this is really important. I just need to ask a few questions. It will take some time, but we need to discuss this."

Pulling out my wand, I thought of a happy memory.

_Watching the stars through the holes in the ground…_

" _ **Expecto Patronum**_." In a rebellious manner, I had told Hermione that her business could not possible be more important than mine, and that I would talk to her later, adding that I would appreciate if she didn't send any more Patronus replies.

Once I had made it to the entrance of Hogwarts, I apparated back to the field. It was still silent, so I figured that Cygnus had not yet awoken. I quickly made my way to the hole in the grass, crawled through it, and walked the lighted path through the forest. I figured that I was here, and so I strolled along the path, taking time to admire the beautiful world Cygnus had created. The trees had perfectly symmetrical trucks with variations in their branches and leaves, organized either randomly or in complicated patterns, it was hard to tell. Each one was perfect and gave of the scent of fresh air, even if they were underground.

When I reached the edge of the forest, I saw nothing but grass and shimmering water. I looked around, trying to find Cygnus, but I could not find him. He had woken up, it seemed, while I was gone.

_Damn._  I walked on until I was looking right down at the water of the lake. I saw no reflection of me, but pure blue glass as always. I was tempted to touch it again, to see if maybe this time the surface was really glass, but I did not because I knew it was water. From above, I could hear birds chirping, as they hunted bugs and flew off to seize the day. The sounds were quite relaxing, and I tuned in my ears to hear them better. I could hear the breeze rustling the blades of the grass, a few tweets, and the flapping of wings. As I listened more intently, my ears picked up a different sound; a mixture of rustling and some sort of thud; a stomp maybe? I held my ear to the sound's direction and slowly stood to find the source. It seemed to be coming from the forest, astray from the path. With a quick wave of my wand, I silenced my steps and made my way through the trees, making a ( _very indirect and detoured_ ) path through the trees to the sound.

Closer now, I could hear a voice, though I couldn't make out what was being said. With one careful foot in front of the other, I slowly crept up to the voice, which, I could tell now, was Cygnus. One more step, and my foot found just about the only stick on the ground to step on. I froze in place before I remembered I had placed a silence spell on my feet. Feeling rather dumb now, I continued on forward, not necessarily being too sneaky anymore.

"I should've known all that would be a dream. I really am going…" The voice faded in and out. With a few more steps toward the voice, I could make out a clearing in the trees where light escaped. The trees seemed to form a circle around the clearing, and in that circle ( _or maybe oval? I'm sure it was easier to tell inside the clearing_ ) Cygnus continued to speak.

"…honestly can't let my mind go wild like that again. I mean, I always figured insanity wouldn't come without its tricks and obstacles, but I didn't expect something so harsh. One lovely night, completely torn from reality." He paused. "I'm sure I must have looked quite silly walking around, talking to someone who wasn't really there." Another pause, and I could see from between the trees that Cygnus lying down, looking up at a hole in the ground from which light poured through, just talking to himself. "Does that mean I bought my own broom, then? Do I even really have it? Was that a dream, too?"

I took a step forward, so that I was visible to him at the edge of the clearing, and then leaned on a tree.

"It's real. I bought it. I thought for sure you'd remember something like that. I guess I'll have to try harder next time to do something you'll never forget."

Cygnus sat up and stared at me, almost as if I should disappear at any second ( _actually, he probably did expect me to disappear_ ). "Are you real?"

I smiled. "Well...if I wasn't real, asking me if I was wouldn't accomplish anything, as I would just say yes. But I am real. At least, I'm pretty sure I am."

"So…" He hesitated. "So last night really did happen?"

"Yes, it did." I took another step forward into the clearing and sat down in the grass. "And I'm glad it did."

He sighed.

"That's exactly what a figment of my imagination would say." He laid back down and continued to stare at the ground above us.

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What does one say to someone who thinks you're imaginary, even though you aren't? If he truly thinks he's insane, then what would convince him otherwise?

"Stop torturing me, figment. Just leave." Once again, only air came out of my opened mouth. Apparently I could outsmart dragons, goblins, Death Eaters, and even Voldemort himself ( _several times, actually_ ), but I couldn't think of something to say to convince someone that I was real? My skills were very limited.

"I'm…I'm not a figment." ( _That was the best I could come up with)_

Cygnus sat up again. "How do I know that? You said it yourself; you would say you were real even if you weren't."

"Well…what makes you think I'm not real?"

He stared at me a moment, those blue eyes so piercing. "Last night was wonderful. Perfect even. And we fell asleep under the stars, and I was happy. But when I woke up, you were gone. Obviously I imagined the whole thing."

_I knew I shouldn't have left…_  I offered half a smile.

"Well actually, I left so I could get ready and change at home while you were asleep so I could come back before you woke up. I suppose I didn't really do a good job with my timing…"

He narrowed his eyes. "And how convenient it is that you've found me here. I never showed the real Hyden this clearing."

"Well…uh…I heard you talking to yourself, so I figured I should come and find you." I scratched the back of my head.

_Come to think of it, it_ is _all pretty convenient…_

"Look, I'm real. I promise."

He looked at me still, seeming to try and concentrate, but after a few moments he stopped. "Alright, I believe you," and laid back down.

I smiled at him. "So… you think last night was perfect?"

* * *

**Cygnus's POV:**

I couldn't help but smile at his question. He was so cute, even his personality made me want to hug a bunny.

"I think it's safe to say it was easily my best day ever." But my smile quickly faded.

All morning, I had been concerned that my mind had finally lost its sense of reality and that I was starting to hallucinate entire days with people. From the moment Hyden showed up, I had been expecting him to morph into Harry, as that is how all of my dreams went. I stared at him, telling my mind to turn him into Harry Potter. But he didn't. So he was real.

I felt guilty.

As much as I tried to convince myself that Hyden was perfect for me, and that he cared for me as a person and not for me as what I had or used to be, I still loved him less than he deserved. I could trust that if I took my ring off, he would be shocked, but still love me because he didn't care who I was to society as long I was still me to him. He would devote all his time to me, trying to rush away to get changed before I woke up so he could focus on me, and not even care if I was insane enough to think he was a dream this whole time. If I could control myself, I would love him unconditionally. But somehow, through years of being enemies, calling each other harsh names, getting into fights, and being forced onto different sides of the war ( _though honestly I cannot say that I wanted to be a Death Eater, and I'm sure that he would much rather have been normal instead of the one to defeat The Dark Lord_ ), I still loved Harry Potter.

I didn't understand how my heart could be so cruel. It was handed this absolutely stunning boy, perfect in every way, but yet it turned up its nose and refused to change its mind.

_What the bloody fucking hell, Heart?_  Why couldn't I just rip out my heart and replace it with a new one so I can like him instead? Hyden's head touched mine as he lay down beside me.

"You know, Cygnus, I don't think I've ever been in such a perfect place before."

"Well, I made it that way."

We sat in silence, staring at the sunbeams that lit the clearing. I felt so trapped inside my own mind just arguing with myself over how I should feel. As much as I tried to be free from the thoughts, they kept coming back just as fast as I could toss them into the back of my mind. I was growing more and more stressed until I heard a few words from Hyden.

"Is this the real life?" He asked, then paused. "Is this just fantasy?" he continued, in song. "Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality." He sat up. "Open your eyes. Look up to the skies and see…"

I sat in silence, not having heard this song before, but enjoying listening to Hyden sing all the same.

"I'm just a poor boy…I need no sympathy. Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low. Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me…To me."

Hyden got up on his knees and looked to the ground. "Mama…just killed a man. Put a gun against his head," using his fingers as the gun, "pulled my trigger, now he's dead. Mama, life had just begun, but now I've gone and thrown it  _all away._  Mama! Ooh ooooohhh! Didn't mean to make you cry! If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters…"

I leaned to the side and held myself up with my hand, watching him with amusement.

"Too late, my time has come. Sent shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time. Goodbye, everybody. I've got to go. Gotta leave you all behind and  _face the truth_. Mama! Ooh ooooohhh! I  _don't wanna die_! Sometimes wish I'd never been born at all."

Hyden then proceeded to act out the entire guitar solo using his air guitar, which he was very talented with. I laughed and plopped back onto the ground and he joined in. Above us, the light was blocked. We looked up to see an owl, its light brown foot stuck in the hole that was meant to let light in, not owls.

Hyden pulled out his wand and pointed it at the foot.

" _ **Reducio.**_ " The owl shrunk in size and slipped through the hole, half-flying half-falling down to Hyden. He untied the note from the owl's leg and read it, sighing shortly after he had unrolled it.

"What is it?"

"Well…I…I'm sorry. I have to go. One of my friends really needs me. It's an emergency. I…" He looked at me with those big puppy eyes, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

I nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll be here."

Hyden stood, but continued to look at me. "Just because I'm leaving doesn't mean I'm not real."

I laughed. "Yes. I understand."

He smiled and turned, vanishing with a crack, leaving both me and the small owl alone. The light brown and foreign owl looked at me with huge luminous eyes.

"What are you looking at?"

The owl turned its head to the side.

"I don't have a note for you. I, actually, don't have anything for you. I can't even make you your normal size again."

The owl gave a soft hoot and took off back through the hole, leaving only me behind in my own little world, unable to get out of my own thoughts.


	14. Silvery Strands and Lists from Oblivion

**3rd Person POV:**

Narcissa was more than surprised that not a single guard had noticed the missing wand. In fact, she hadn't seen a single guard since her breakfast skirmish six days ago when she took the wand. They had knocked on her door, announcing the meal they had, and she would refuse it. She wanted to keep out any guards as long as she could because she had recently renovated her prison cell.

Where once was mold and dirt covered floors was now polished and smooth mahogany floor. In the corner she had placed a lovely table with a chair for her to sit in. She had even added a comfy cushion onto her chair, green patterned with silver curls in complicated figurations. She had transfigured an old napkin into a forest green tablecloth, the dirty plate she had been given into fine china, and her cup once filled with punch into a formal glass, rounded perfectly to her hand with a decorated stem. In the opposite corner, she had a comfortable bed that took up most of the room with a detailed quilt and silk sheets that were so smooth against her skin. Every morning she would awaken from her wonderful sleep, use a cleaning spell on her prison clothes, and prepare some tea. She spent a lot of the day cleaning her cell and putting up silencing spells so she didn't have to hear the other prisoners act like dogs to get their meals.

She had figured out quite quickly the limits of her happiness in Azkaban. While she had a wand, the walls seemed to absorb magic that had been sitting for too long. Narcissa would constantly keep watch over her things to make sure they did not start to disappear or transfigure back into their original form. And since food could not be pulled out of thin air, as so many objects can, she had to keep some of her Mushed Mystery so that she could expand it and turn it into different foods. But most importantly of all, her cleaning spells wore off much too quickly for her liking, and so she was constantly sending them across the room at the walls and floor, even her clothes would become so much dirtier than was normal for clothes to be.

" _ **Scorgify**_ ," Narcissa pointed the wand at the only empty corner of the room where mold had begun to multiply. The mold disappeared, leaving, in its place, the squeaky clean stone wall.

She sighed and looked out the only tiny window in her cell. It was midday, and the sun was up in the sky. The waters around the island prison would be so nice to look at; however, they were keeping her from her only son. Many times she had thought of Draco while attempting to clean the floor or keep the table legs from disappearing, so many times, in fact, she had lost count so long ago. She wished that prisoners could send owls, so that she may send Draco a letter asking him to come and visit her to see how he was doing. She was sure that without his father, Draco would be so much more successful with his life. Unlike Lucius, Narcissa actually cared about Draco, so much that she would give up the wand and let her prison cell fall back into filth just long enough to send an owl. She did miss him dearly…

Narcissa took a sip of her tea, thoughts of lost family making her lose her appetite for the Shepard's pie that she had on a plate in front of her, leaving to turn slowly back into Mushed Mystery. There was a knock at her door, causing her heart to give a little jump.

"Oh Cissy, girl. I got your luncheon here. Would ya' like it?"

She remained silent.

"Oh? The fancy-pantsy Mrs. Malfoy too good to answer my lunch call?" There was the distinct sound of the guard's hand on the door knob. Narcissa panicked and quietly cast " _ **Finite**_ " around the room. Her table shrunk into nothing, her plate turning dirty once more, her wine glass melted back into an average cup, her bed morphed back into the wall, and all the dirt came back full speed. She quickly stuffed the wand down the front of her prison uniform.

"Cissy? Oh Cissy? You aren't dead are ya? I know you haven't eaten in a while…you must be  _famished_ …" The guard opened the door. Narcissa pretended to be against the wall, looking into nothing. The guard made his way over to her, snapping his fingers in front of her face. She blinked and finally looked up at him.

"Oh, just waking up, are we, Cissy? I've got your lunch here. Ya' outta eat it. It will do ya good…but of course…I won't just hand it to ya."

Determined to look anywhere but at the guard's face, she found a collection of mildew on the floor to stare at. She made a note to herself to clean that spot first when the guard left.

"No? What's wrong with ya? Ain't got a stomach anymore?"

The mildew was so absolutely filthy looking, almost as if it should grow legs and start crawling around. May Merlin have mercy upon that mildew once Narcissa got a hold of it…

"How about a tongue? Ya got one of those?" The guard narrowed his eyes and followed Narcissa's line of sight.

"Ah… staring at a pile of mildew, are ya? Such the clean-freak."

Even if the guard had quite an enjoyable time making fun with the prisoners, fear always crept into his mind when they started going crazy. It was a horrid thing to watch. He remembered a time when he had one prisoner who became obsessed with a certain scratch on the wall, spending all day using his nails to try and make it even with the rest of the wall. Months later, his fingers were bloody stumps without nails on them, and yet he still clawed at the scratch. Eventually, the man choked himself to death with his own hands, but he had managed a scratch on the wall right next to the original one. Stuff like that always happened to the prisoners who were in long enough. Without anything to do, they had to come up with something, even if it was staring at mildew. He guessed in another couple weeks, Cissy would be covered head to toe in dirt and mold trying to clean up her cell before she finally did herself in. It wouldn't be the first time…

The guard dropped the plate of prison food onto the floor and exited without another word. The mysterious green slop that was now splattered on the floor did not have two seconds before Narcissa cleaned it. Once again, the whole cell was clean. She breathed a sigh of relief and sank down onto the floor. She would live in a dirty house for the rest of her days to be able to send an owl to Draco. How dearly she missed him…

* * *

Harry had finally made it to his room at Hogwarts, where Hermione had said she would expect him. Her exact words on the letter had been " _Harry, Ron and I will be waiting in your room to talk to you about something important. If you are not there in one hour, so help me, I will track you down and drag you there myself, not bothering to hide your real identity. Do_ not  _make me use magic against you, Harry, because I will. That's how important this could be."_

Needless to say, Harry figured he should go.

He opened the door to find Hermione and Ron both sitting casually on his bed staring out the window.

"You don't think tha' beater is gonna swing the bludger at the quaffle again, do you? It would completely ruin the keeper's record, not to mention the Gryffindor lead…"

"Harry! You showed up." Hermione smiled.

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes, half a smirk growing on his lips. "Well, you sort of threatened to drag me here anyway, so I figured I should just go willingly."

"Look, Harry, we can't explain everything to you just yet, but we need to ask you a few questions." Ron nodded in agreement sheepishly, dragged into this by Hermione.

"What?" Harry was sort of taken aback by the sudden bluntness. "What questions?"

"Mate," Ron said, "you can't get mad, but we can't tell you what they're for. We've…sort of…made promise to someone that we wouldn't say anything."

"Alright," Harry said slowly, making his way over to the chair to sit down.

Hermione sat up straight. "Do you remember anything significant happening sometime around this date, or possibly a few days from now, in the past?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "Significant?"

"Yeah," Ron replied, "like a day where you got into any fights, or arguments, maybe."

He pondered a moment. "How far in the past? Like, last year?"

"Anytime from first year to last year. Though probably not last year." Hermione looked to Ron. "About this time last year we had already defeated Voldemort. That's not relevant to this. Anything from other years?"

"Uh…first year…it's around the time I fought Quirrell, or went to the hospital wing after the battle. Second year…inside the Chamber of Secrets…or in the hospital wing making sure all the petrified people were alright, and Ginny, too. Third year…I could have been fighting with Wormtail and Sirius, or fighting all those Dementors…or in the hospital wing after they attacked both Sirius and I…come to think of it, I've always been in the hospital wing for some reason near the end of the year."

Hermione sighed. "Well, being in the hospital wing isn't what we're looking for, either."

"Fourth year…it's around the time Cedric died and Voldemort got a body again at that cemetery. Fifth year…Battle in the Department of Mysteries. Sixth year…I was probably watching Dumbledore die…" Hermione gave a questioning look a moment before standing and leaving the room. Ron and Harry looked out the door after her, then at each other before standing and following after her.

"'Mione! Where are you going?"

She called back over her shoulder, "To Dumbledore's grave."

Both boys were confused, but continued to try and catch up with Hermione anyway. They all walked in silence through the halls and across the grounds until they arrived at the sacred place. Hermione squatted beside the grave, brushed off some of the dust that covered the inscription. She quickly calculated the time from the given date in her head.

"It says he died two years and three weeks ago." She stood.

"Well that makes sense. That was the year that school ended early." Ron smiled. He had made a connection, and he was proud. "So there's no way it happened sixth year, either."

Once again, Hermione sighed. "We need to talk to Headmistress McGonagall."

McGonagall had been perfectly stressed inside her office when there was a knock at the door. "Come in."

Hermione walked in first, followed by Harry and Ron. "Headmistress, could we use your pensieve?"

McGonagall looked sternly between them. "So I take it you have not gotten anywhere in figuring out the anniversary, then?"

The former teacher's pet had the expression as if she had only barely made the minimum requirement of parchment for an essay instead of a couple inches past it. "No, we haven't. It's…difficult."

Harry looked between the two females, very confused as he hadn't the slightest idea what they were talking about.  _Anniversary?_

"Very well…" McGonagall turned and went to her mirror, opening it with a quick wave of her wand. Inside was a collection of small flasks, each dated.

"If you cannot tell, Mr. Potter, I am much more organized with my memories than Dumbledore was. As well as experienced with dated memories." She brought a bowl off the top shelf and placed it on the desk. Harry could see how much different it was from the one Dumbledore had kept.

McGonagall stepped over to Harry, placing her wand tip to his head and removing several silvery strands and placing them into the bowl. It felt odd, to Harry, as if someone was pulling a string through his brain; not exactly painful, just weird. The strands sifted around the bowl, neither liquid nor gas, all hazy and mysterious.

"It seems he has quite a few memories to choose from." McGonagall looked to Hermione. "While I would say we all could have a look at the memories, Ms. Granger, I'm afraid they are Harry's." She looked back to Harry. "You will look through them, telling us each one once it has finished, and we will place it back into your head afterwards."

Harry nodded and stepped up to the bowl. He had, of course, looked into a pensieve before, but never when his own memories filled it. He placed his face into the bowl and found himself falling and landing on his knees inside the hospital wing. He looked around and saw himself lying unconscious on the bed, Madam Pomfrey attending to him. She was muttering to herself while pouring some sort of potion into a spoon and placing a piece of chocolate on top, which melted into it.

"Oh yes Dementors…. _brilliant_  idea at a school… _honestly_ …" She force fed it to a younger Harry and then scuttled away. Harry tried to remember he was really in McGonagall's office, and pulled his head from the pensieve.

Hermione stood from the chair she had sat in. "What was it?"

"Hospital wing, third year. I was unconscious after being attacked by Dementors. How lovely."

McGonagall, now sitting in her chair behind the desk, pulled her wand out and dipped it gingerly into the pensieve, speaking a few words under her breath. More than one silvery strand came up with her wand, and she flicked them at Harry's head ( _since he was not close enough to put her wand to it, and really it wasn't necessary to touch the head. The memories would naturally soak back in_ ).

"I had originally just removed every memory from today to next week, but I've narrowed it down to the distinct ones. Try again, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded and placed his head back into the pensieve. He fell once more, but tried to remain balanced so he could land on his feet. He was not successful, and landed right on his back in the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle standing right over him, moving the letters around to make his anagram. Having already lived this once, Harry decided to pull his head from the pensieve prematurely.

"Chamber of Secrets. I fought the basilisk and Tom Riddle, destroying the first horcrux."

While Harry couldn't hear them, Hermione had been trying to explain to McGonagall about why they couldn't tell Harry about the prophecy. She had gotten about half a sentence out before Harry had come back up. McGonagall took haste in removing the memory from the pensieve and tossing it at Harry's head. Harry instinctively ducked, causing the silvery strand to fall onto the floor.

"Pick it up, Mr. Potter," McGonagall sighed, and Harry did what he was told, placing it near his head and feeling the odd absorption of the memory back into his mind, and then plunging his face back into the pensieve.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, "Harry has no idea that Cygnus is Draco and Draco has no idea that Hyden is Harry. Telling them about the prophecy, or just Harry, might ruin the chances of the prophecy coming true by affecting how they feel about each other befor-"

"First year, getting through Fluffy, the plant, the flying keys, the potion, and the chess match. Fighting Quirrell and getting the Sorcerer's Stone from the Mirror of Erised. Touching his face and him crumbling to pieces."

McGonagall, with much irritation said, "Do not move," as she picked up the memory and flicked it at Harry.

"Hurry on, then, we haven't got all day to waste."

Agreeing with that statement, Harry placed his head back into the pensieve.

"Continue on, Ms. Granger."

"Well, it will affect how they feel before they really develop feelings for each other. When they do, I think they would care less about who they really were-"

"Fourth year, finding out that Mad Eye had been Barty Crouch Jr. for the whole year, helping me win the tournament so I could be there in the cemetery." Hermione looked questioningly at Harry.

" _That_  is a distinct memory?"

Harry shrugged. "Well…I never forgot how his magical eye looked without anything around it, just whirling around on the floor…"

McGonagall flicked the memory at Harry. "Next memory, please."

"Right," Harry said, then placed his head back into the pensieve.

"…who they really were without their magical rings," Hermione finished.

McGonagall nodded slowly. "I see. Very well."

"I still feel weird about the whole men liking men thing, 'Mione," added Ron.

With a shrug, Hermione replied, "Well after years of pushing away random girls, I figured he couldn't be straight. I mean, he didn't date a single one of those crazy-"

"Seventh year, defending people at trials. Some woman coming up to me sobbing and thanking her for defending her husband. She said she ran a mobile sweet shop that delivered with owls." He smiled. "She gave me her card and said she'd give me anything I wanted. I wonder what I did with that." Despite the fact that the memory had seemed to be useless, something in her brain kept nagging at Hermione.

"Harry, who all did you defend?"

"Uh…loads of people who were suspected Death Eaters, but I knew weren't."

"Get the full list."

"Uh. Alright." McGonagall handed him a quill and parchment. Harry put his face down into the pensieve and began scribbling immediately.

"What is it, 'Mione?"

"I'm not sure, Ron. I completely forgot that Harry had defended people at the Wizengamot. It was all over the Daily Prophet how he defended…" Hermione paused and looked up from the floor to McGonagall, "Narcissa Malfoy. He defended her to the bloody end, saying that she had saved his life by telling Voldemort that he was dead when he really wasn't, but that was the only case that he lost…" Hermione had frozen.

_Oh my god_ , she mouthed.

"What, Ms. Granger?"

"'Mione?"

Hermione put her hands to the sides of her head. "I've completely failed as a friend. I never told Draco that his mother's in Azkaban! I…forgot." Her voice was so much higher than normal in panic.

"Ms. Granger, relax. You can tell Draco the news  _after_  we have figured out the meaning of the prophecy."

"D'you think that could be the anniversary the prophecy talks about?" Ron looked between the two. "I mean, surely Draco would be happy that Harry helped his mom, even if he didn't succeed."

"Alright, got the full list." Harry looked around the room, seeing the confusion on Ron's face as he was in deep thought, the concern on McGonagall's face as she searched through her cabinet of potions for calming draught, and the fear on Hermione's face as she paced the window.

"What happened while I was gone?"

"Ah, here it is." McGonagall uncorked the calming draught and poured some into a teacup. "Here, Ms. Granger, drink this."

Hermione's shaking hands grabbed the teacup and she sipped, and then drank, and then gulped. Her shaking stopped and a smile came onto her face.

"Much better," she said. "Who'd you get Harry?" He handed her the list and she read it out-loud. " _Argus Filch, Cormac McLaggen, Melinda Bobbin, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bullstrode, Graham Montague, Pike, Warrington, Draco Malfoy, Narcissia Malfoy…"_  Hermione paused. "You defended Draco?"

"Forget about that. You defended Parkinson  _and_ Bullstrode?" Ron looked at Harry as if he were insane.

"Well, yeah. I didn't want any of them to go to Azkaban. They weren't Death Eaters."

"Draco was. And so was his mother," Ron said.

"Well, I mean, his mom wasn't...but they helped me. Draco was asked to identify me to Bellatrix when we were caught by the snatchers, but he didn't, even though he knew it was me. And his mom told Voldemort I was dead, though I might have been for a while, but I wasn't. They saved me, so I figured I should return the favor. Couldn't save his mom, though. Apparently saving Voldemort from killing me twice isn't enough for not sending someone to Azkaban if they were really tied to being a Death Eater."

Hermione smiled. "Alright Harry, I think this list will do."

Harry looked questioningly at her. "But you asked about fighting. Here I was defending people."

"You fought the Wizengamot, Mr. Potter. I think that will suffice." McGonagall rose from her chair, a flask full of the memory in her hand. "You may leave now. We do not need you any longer."

He nodded and looked to the window. The sun was setting in the sky and he felt his stomach drop. He was running late.

* * *

After the owl had left, Draco had removed his ring and decided to wash the grass stains out of his hair. He had some time to kill ( _about an hour or two maybe. Emergencies always took a while to resolve_ ).

He made his way to the lake and disrobed, placing a gentle foot into the water and watching the ripples it made. Slowly, he submerged himself, finally placing his head underneath and coming back up. He turned over a strategically placed rock that had a mirror on its flat side and looked at his hair. He could see the pale green tint in the sunlight and took to scrubbing his scalp. As it was doing no help, he swam over to his boulder and ducked under the surface. Inside the boulder was shelf upon shelf of shampoo and conditioners and soap; anything he could possibly need for bathing. He took his Stay Blonde shampoo ( _yes, it was girl shampoo, but it did wonders for his easily colored hair_ ), and went back under and swam over to his mirror. He squeezed out a small quarter-sized amount and rubbed it into his hair, making bubbles instantly. With his hands busy, the thought to himself.

_Really, I feel so awful. Why can't I just fall in love with Hyden? He's so sweet, plus he really likes me, which is more than I can say for Harry Potter. He probably hasn't ever even thought of me as a friend, just someone he argued with in his school days._ _Why, of all things, do I love him and not someone who could possibly return my affections?_

Draco shut his eyes and went back underwater, washing all the shampoo from his hair. The shampoo bubbles rose to the surface and then melted into the lake as every other unnecessary object did. He came back up and looked in his mirror, finding the green tint was gone. And he made himself a promise.

_I've had enough of Harry Potter. I will force myself to love Hyden, if I have to. It's not worth chasing after someone who will never love you back._

He got out of the water and pulled his clothes back on, even if he was still wet, though he hardly noticed. He was determined, now, to make logical reasons why he should not like Harry Potter.

_Well first and foremost, he almost killed me fifth year. Sectumsempra bloody fucking hurt._

Draco made his way through the forest to his clearing and began looking through his bag to find his Be-Anything book.

_Also, he picked Ron and Hermione over me. Really, he had the chance, but he refused. He will never be my friend._

He pulled the book open, seeing the first page was titled, " _How to overcome lovesickness-Potion edition_ " and flipped to the next page, " _Reasons to toss away that crush and focus on work."_

_Yeah, I should be more focused on my life. I haven't got time to dilly-dally with the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die. Honestly, I have better things to be doing._

The next page was titled, " _What to do when love potion doesn't wear off_ " and Draco flipped right by it to, " _How to tell if that special somebody may not be the one for you."_  Draco, needless to say, read the page.

_Sometimes, we all fall for people that are wrong for us. Here are some ways to see if that hunk_ _might be a no-no._ (Already, Draco could tell this was a book or magazine for a teenage girl)

_1: If he doesn't show he cares only about you, he probably doesn't._

_2: If there is too much arguing and not enough making up, it's time to leave him._

_3: If his friends don't ever comment on how much he likes you, it's usually a sign that they know_ _he doesn't like you._

_4: If he constantly disappears, and you don't know where to, he may be cheating. Say goodbye._

As much as Draco was finding the information to be useful in some occasions, mostly it sounded like the article was telling girls to stalk their boyfriends to see if he was right for them. He wanted nothing to do with it. He flipped to the next page, " _What_  not _to like in a guy_ " and started reading.

_There are generally five different types of guys:_

_The Nerd: This guy knows everything you would ever care to know and more. He studies, gets good grades, and will correct people who are wrong. If you go after this guy, you may want to_ _get your facts memorized and be comfortable with being corrected on your grammar._

_The Jock: This guy is very involved in sports, keeping an arrogant head in the air since he thinks_ _he's best at everything. If you go after this guy, make sure he keeps his head down to earth and_ _cares more about you than his scores at the big game._

_The Scumbag: This guy enjoys his girls, as well as hanging with his guy friends. He can, and will,_ _flirt with any girl he comes into contact with, then brag to his buds. It's best not to fall for this_ _guy. He will only leave you broken-hearted._

_The Romantic: This guy sticks to one girl and makes the most of it. If he likes you, he will make_ _sure you know. He would do anything to make you happy, and can often be a sap. If you fall for_ _this guy, prepare to be swept off your feet and have him open the door for you everywhere you_ _go._

_The Nice Guy: This guy is completely oblivious. He will stay your friend, even if he's been in love_ _with you since pre-school. He will put up with all your crap and never complain once. If you fall_ _for this guy, make sure to tell him, otherwise you will go nowhere fast._

From the little descriptions, Draco placed Harry as a mixture between the Jock and Nice Guy, and Hyden as the Romantic. The only one that seemed to have the most perks was the Romantic. Draco couldn't see what was wrong with any of the things it mentioned. The Jock, thought, was arrogant and the Nice Guy was hard-headed, both of which could suit Harry Potter. Draco tried to match himself up to one of the categories, but found he could not. He thought about how weird it was, but then realized he just read an article intended for girls and quickly came to the conclusion that he was considered a girl in this situation and would not fit into the categories because of that. 

On the next page, he found an odd article titled, " _List from Oblivion,_ " with only a few sentences down it. Curious, he read it.

_You are both men._

_Society will not accept you._

_He does not return your interest, for he loves someone else._

_When told your name, the first thing he thinks is of your father and how he hates him._

_He once thought of what a prat you were._

_Never once has he considered you a friend. Only enemy, classmate, and ally._

_He pities you._

_He would never help your father, no matter how much was offered to him to do so._

_Many times he has wanted to punch your face without consequences._

Draco was confused, as that was all it said. Was the book talking about Harry? It had to be. Reading all these things, instead of hearing them in his mind, only multiplied their meaningful value ( _with the exception of the father comments. He could care less about his father_ ). While his mind felt victorious, his heart felt sad.

_He loves someone else? He pities me?_  It struck hard.

Closing the book, he sighed and looked up at the hole in the ground above him. The light pouring through was growing brighter. Surely Hyden would be back soon. He took his ring from his pocket and placed it back on his finger.

_Hyden,_  he thought.  _He never would pity me._  His heart still ached.  _Hyden would never hurt me. He wouldn't even care that I am really Draco Malfoy. He would still love me. And never, I bet, has he ever wanted to punch me in the face._

He sighed.

_I bet even right now, he wants to hurry back here and spend time with me. I do love him, but I still don't know if I love him enough._  Draco, now Cygnus, ran a hand through his hair and tried to regain himself.


	15. The Throne Room

**Hyden's POV:**

After a visit to my room to grab my ring, I walked beyond the entrance of Hogwarts, turned and apparated back to the field. Really, I just wanted to get back to Cygnus and spend the remaining part of the day there that Hermione, Ron, and Professor McGonagall hadn't taken from us. I had promised him I'd be back later, and I'm sure he was starting to think I wasn't going to arrive at all. I hurried quickly down the hole and through the trees. Though I only had a vague idea where the clearing was, I found it since the moon was shining brightly, casting a silver glow that other parts of the forest could not possibly have. I found Cygnus lying down, staring up at the sky through the hole in the ground, and I joined him.

After all that, I was never happier to be beside Cygnus as I was now. There was no need for words to be exchanged between us. I looked over to him, lying beside me looking up at the stars. The moonlight made his black hair shine like sunlight could not, and his blue eyes reflected the dark sky filled with little lights. I loved him like I had never loved anyone before, and I was sure that he felt the same. There was something about him that seemed to bring out the best in me, and in return provide me with a fill to an emptiness that I had always felt. He was everything; my best friend and love interest. The world seemed complete when he was there. Nothing mattered except for him. My past sank away, and my future shone ever so brightly. I had lost a lot of people before, but he would not be one of them. I would make sure of that.

I sat up and leaned over to place my lips on Cygnus's smooth ones. The inside of my head was heaven, and my heart seemed to shake the ground with its heavy pumping. His arms wrapped around my neck and his lips parted, inviting me in. I took the liberty to explore his mouth with my tongue, my hormones running wild. In this forest of bliss, all my love poured out. My hand traveled up under his shirt, feeling the smooth, soft skin there as a soft mew emerged from his mouth.

Almost instantly guilt hit me, a sinking stone in my stomach, too large to ignore. I knew where this was heading. I wanted to be able to reach a new stage in our relationship, and yet I still held onto a lie. The ring on my finger grew colder as I pulled my hand back out of his shirt. Reluctantly, I removed my lips from his as well and sat back.

"I'm sorry, Cygnus."

Cygnus sighed. "You're not going to say you're waiting until marriage, are you?"

"What? No. That's…that's not it at all."

"Oh, good. I was worried for a second. What is it, then?"

I looked to the grass, not sure if I was ready to tell him who I really was, but doing so anyway.

"I…I've been lying to you ever since we met."

I wanted everything from him, and I was willing to give him everything in return. He meant so much, and he deserved to know. The truth couldn't wait any longer.

"I'm not really who you think I am." I looked up and waited for his reaction.

He sat up, a confused look on his face. "What do you mean?"

"I've lied about who I am."

He continued to stare at me. "Look, I don't care about whatever you've told me about your past. I don't care if you lied about who you are. I don't even care if all the gold you have is from robbing people. I really don't care. What I care about is that you've been the same Hyden I've met from day one. The one who likes to ride brooms and jump in the lake and sing songs while spinning and waving your arms around wildly."

"Cygnus-"

"I care that you care. Not many people have actually taken the time to know me and give me the chance to prove that I'm something other than my past. But you have. And I…love you." He smiled.

I looked back down, not wanting to meet his face. "I love you, too. That's why I can't lie to you anymore." I lifted my hand and pulled the silver band with grey stone off my finger. The words reflected in the moonlight.

_The one and the only_. What a choice of words.

"I'm sorry I never told you before, but I'm Harry Potter."

* * *

**Cygnus's POV:**

That moment when the person you love is the person you hate because you loved them. What do you do then? I spent all day convincing myself that he wasn't good for me, only to find him disguised as the one I had just begun to love. I had picked out each individual reason why we could never be together, and I ripped my own heart out to start over again, just to find out that my new love was my old love.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the one who chose to keep Hermione and Ron as friends first year instead of me, who defeated the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher first year because he was actually the Dark Lord, who lost all the bones in his arm after a Quidditch match because of Lockhart, who was stupid enough to compete in the Triwizard Tournament and win so that the Dark Lord could come back to power, who sent my father to Azkaban fifth year and proved the existence of the Dark Lord to the Ministry, who cursed me in the bathroom when he found me crying because I almost sent the Cruciatus Curse at him sixth year, who appeared out of nowhere and saved all of Hogwarts after dying by coming back to life and even saved my life in the Room of Requirement, the one who saved me from going to Azkaban by defending me to the Wizengamot, who asked about my bruises as if he cared, who got me kicked out of my house and disowned by my family and caused me to go insane.

And then I look to him. His beautiful green eyes, ones that match my soul, look into my mind, and tell me it will all be alright. Love always wins for him. It is never even a choice. He lives for love, quite literally. He knows what love is, and what it feels like, and how to react around it. He's the great hero, the savior. What am I? The one and the only Draco Malfoy, last insane member of the Malfoy family, and the only one who doesn't know what he wants anymore. I am so much less than him, socially, physically, mentally, spiritually, and pretty much any other way possible.

I continued to stare at him, not sure of what to do. It was quite tempting to pull off my own ring and reveal myself, and then we could live happily ever after as I had always imagined. But would Harry be alright with that? I wasn't so sure. But surely, I believed Hyden would be able to live with the fact that I was Draco Malfoy, and if Harry  _was_  Hyden…surely…

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, a pull at my navel tugged me into blackness and dropped me in the Ministry. Harry was gone from my sight. Left behind in my world, where I so dearly wanted to return to.

"Draco, take off your ring. You have an emergency hearing. It's random, honestly, and completely unplanned. Sorry, I forgot to tell you, I made your ring a portkey last time I checked it. Honestly, I have so much that I meant to tell you, but things have just been hectic lately. I'm so sorry…" Hermione held up my hand and I pulled my ring off my finger as she led me to some doors.

"Through here. G-go…" she struggled to say, "sit in the chair."

I walked through the now open doors into the Wizengamot, to find a single chair in the center of the room. I could feel the eyes of the Ministry piercing into the side of my head as I made my way over to the lonely piece of furniture. Before I sat, I remembered what happens when one sits in it, and how much I had cried the last time I had placed my bottom into it. But this time, while there was nothing to lose, I had people to lose; Harry, the love of my life; Hermione, my best friend. I didn't even have a wand they could take away. Just freedom and people. What had I even done?

I sat down and the chains wrapped around my hands and legs. You'd think that after the war was over, they would get rid of the chains and go for a more docile approach, possibly even trusting the people on trial to stay seated in the chair without chains.

"Draco Malfoy," the Minister announced, his deep voice and rigid posture making him very intimidating, "You have been charged with having close association with The Dark Lord in his time of existence, as well as the murders of Albus Dumbledore, Charity Burbage, Severus Snape, Peter Pettigrew, and Colin Creevey." The Minister's right eye twitched, and I thought for sure he wanted to change his mind for a moment, but all at once, his composure came back.

"Do you admit to these crimes?"

I stared incredulous at the Minister. "You're joking right?" I looked around at all the faces staring back at me. "I was already tried about the association with the Dark Lord, and it's preposterous to think that I killed-" The Minister held up a hand, and so I silenced myself.

"We once thought that the Dark Lord had committed these crimes," he said, "but it has come to our attention, by an unnamable source, that it was, in fact,  _you_  who is responsible." Another twitch of his eye. "I…" He seemed to struggle with his words a moment. "The only punishment for these crimes is life in Azkaban."

My heart dropped.

"But…but I'm  _not_  responsible. I was put up to the task of killing Dumbledore, but I couldn't do it. It was Severus Snape who did it. And then the Dark Lord killed him. I wasn't anywhere  _near_  Colin Creevey, where in Merlin's name-"

"ENOUGH!" The Minister looked down at me. "You have one witness to defend you."

My insides shook.

_One witness? That's it? One witness, who may or may not be able to save me from Azkaban?_  I could feel the memory of my last trial sink back in to reality. It had been the exact same last time, but I doubt it was Harry Potter coming to my rescue.

I looked to the doors and they opened and saw Hermione step through. I took a deep breath and let some of the tension fall. If anyone could get me out of this, it was Hermione.

"Minister," she started, looking directly into the Minister's eyes, "while I respect your authority and completely agree with everything you've done under it, I must say that this trial is preposterous. Aside from the fact that this is double jeopardy, you, personally, have heard recounts from survivors of the war and witnesses to deaths. How can you say that Draco committed these crimes? Harry Potter saw Severus Snape kill Dumbledore, and we both saw Severus Snape be murdered by Lord Voldemort's snake. Peter Pettigrew strangled himself; Harry saw that. Charity Burbage was murdered by Lord Voldemort and Colin Creevey by Death Eaters during the war. Draco had no association with any of these deaths, with the exception of Albus Dumbledore, which he said himself; he was told to do and could not."

"Ms. Granger, I am sorry to say that you have been misinformed." Another twitch. "The connection between these deaths and Draco is flawless, and I cannot say that your outdated information…" he hesitated and twitched again, "will help Draco any."

Hermione, beside me, narrowed her eyes. She scanned the Minister a moment, and then took a step closer, trying to get a better look it seemed. His twitching eyes were, indeed, odd. If I wasn't so scared for my life, I might have been questioning them as Hermione was. But of course, I was about to be sent to Azkaban.

"Draco Malfoy, we have come to a consensus," many of the members of the Wizengamot looked at each other and whispered, as they had not agreed on anything, or even had time to talk at all. "We have no choice under the circumstances but to-"

" _ **Finite Incantatem!**_ " Hermione had pulled her wand out and cast at the Minister.

At once, his twitching eyes became brighter and his rigid posture slackened. The Minister stood at once and slammed his hands on the wood before him, his plum robes swaying with his force.

"I have been under the imperious curse. I tried, but could not resist it completely." He looked to Hermione. "Thank you, Ms. Granger." He looked around at the startled members of the Wizengamot. "I clear Draco Malfoy of all charges, as he obviously did not commit any of the spoken charges."

I gave a huge sigh of relief.

"But Minister, who put you under the curse?" Hermione asked. The Minister took a moment to sit back down.

"I do not know." As I was about to ask if I may be freed from my chains, I heard a small whisper from behind me.

" _ **Relashio.**_ " The chains freed me and a hand grabbed my throat from behind. "You're coming with me," it said, and I was pulled into the blackness of disapperation, unprepared for the crushing sensation.

I fell onto a cold, hard marble floor in a room dimly light by a lamp. The hand released me and I could hear its footsteps walk around me. Many times before, I had been in this same position, on this floor, in this room, and knew what was to await me.

"So, you thought you could just leave? Like it was that easy to just be free of me? You thought your little  _mudblood_  friend could save you from me? Of all people, Draco, you should know by now that you cannot escape your father."

A shiver ran up my spine. I half expected the Dark Lord to emerge from the blackness and add his own disappointed comment, as he always had when I was younger, right before throwing a Cruciatus Curse at me. I was stuck back in the dark times of the war once more, back when I had twice as much torture from two disappointed people. As if they were reappearing, I could feel the ghosts of bruises they had given me, the cuts and scars and blood that had appeared every single time I had visited this room against my will. The Throne Room was full of memories that haunted me.

"You are like your mother. During your first trial, she caught me just before I could curse the Wizengamot. All to tell me that you would most likely be freed of all charges. She was clueless, but held me up enough so that I could not change the results of your trial. I thought that some time in Azkaban would teach you to be better with your...choices in life, but your mother disagreed. And when the time came, she suffered the consequences of disagreeing with me."

I stopped breathing.

_Consequences?_

"What?"

_What was he talking about? Was he beating her, too? I thought I was the only one…_

"You didn't know?" My father scoffed. "Oh, when her trial came up, I made sure there weren't any distractions."

_When her trial…_

"You sent her to Azkaban?" My heart raced.

"Oh no, the Wizengamot did. I merely just chatted with some of the members, possibly placing an Imperious Curse on them to alter their decision."

I could feel the cold blooded fury rise in my body.  _All this time…I thought she was busy…_  I couldn't even comprehend my own words enough to think of the pain that would result from them.

"You bloody bastard! How could you send your own wife to Azkaban? You fucking-"

Pain, unlike anything else on earth, struck me like lightning, and I could only whimper and struggle on the floor. My father was so practiced at the spell, he didn't even need a wand to cast it, though he used it. He didn't speak when he cast it; he didn't need to. No matter how many times he hit me with the curse, one of the three unforgivables, the pain would never lessen.

He could slap, punch, bite, and kick me as many times as he wanted, but it would never be anything compared to this feeling, like my insides were set on fire while my brain was being sucked from my head to my nose through a straw. Every nerve in my whole body felt it; every blood vessel in my body felt like it would burst.

And then it all just stopped.

"Watch your tongue! No son of mine shall  _ever_  speak to me in that manner."

I could feel the blood dripping from my nose onto the floor. My body was so exhausted; I didn't dare move for fear of expending all of my energy.

"You know, when I was your age, I was already married. Your mother was much more  _loyal_  and  _obedient_  back then. But she has since served her purpose, and I no longer need her." My father put his face close to mine and whispered, "She will rot away in Azkaban. The insanity will eat her alive and she will come back into your arms as nothing but bones and flesh."

Tears slipped down my bloody face, stinging small cuts I had acquired from my father's curse.

"You did this to her, you know. If it hadn't been for you and your degrading choices," he stood up and let his voice slice through the room, "your mother would have remained by my side, supporting everything I did, offering me help where she could. If you had been the son this family deserves, never would I have laid a single hand on your mother. But you filthy traitor. You were a disgrace upon us. I beat you, hoping to expel such nonsense from you. Your dear mother wanted to stop my punishments, but I beat her as well. You both  _sicken_  me. If the Dark Lord had ever seen such filth-"

"B-but," I interrupted, "he's dead. And there's nothing you can do about that."

There was a moment of silence, a split second, before another curse hit me, scorching my insides and tearing every nerve from my body one at a time. The pressure behind my eyes grew great, as if my head would explode any second. Slowly, my brain unraveled itself, swelling to fill my entire skull. Millions upon millions of needles poked every inch of my body, delving painfully into the pores of my skin. Each layer of me was being ripped apart at the seams in the most painful way possible. I could see my blood everywhere, but could not tell where it was leaking from.

My father released the spell.

"You will  _learn to hold your tongue_ , boy. I will cut it out if I have to." My father stood in front of my face, and I could see his expensive dragon skin shoes just beside my face.

"You are so weak. I did not raise you this way." I could feel a liquid seeping into my lungs. It burned and thinned my breathing. I let out a cough, sending blood splattering all over my father's expensive shoes and dark robes.

"You insolent-" Another wave of pain struck, so fierce, like I was being roasted by the dead dragon that had made my father's shoes. Its claws dug into my arms and legs while my torso was charbroiled.

"How dare you-" I could hardly hear my father over my pain. It felt, almost, as if an entire new world was invading my senses, stealing everything from me; my sight, my hearing, and smell was gone, leaving me to taste my own blood and feel the pain coursing through my veins in its place. Even after the spell had left my body, my vision was blurred and shaky.

"Now, when you feel up to it, I want you to return to your room and stay there. Don't even try to escape this time, because I've made sure there isn't a single nook or cranny that you could wiggle through." The footsteps, now sounding more distant, turned and carried until they had exited the room, leaving me bleeding and helpless on the cold marble floor of the very room that once was the Dark Lord's throne room.

I closed my eyes and prayed for it all to be a nightmare.


	16. Apathy

**3rd Person POV:**

In his entire life, Lucius has never been so gone. He had spent all that night crying of what he had done to his son Draco, and yet there was a side of him that had done it on purpose. He could not understand himself. He loved his son so; why would he want to hurt him? Honestly, he had been asking himself the question for quite a while now. Almost as long as Draco had been alive.

He had spent the early years of Draco's childhood raising him as Lucius' own father had not, with love and tender care, being there with Narcissa every step of the way. From Draco's first smile to his first broomstick, he was the happiest father on planet earth. He took joy in watching his son grow, and provided a nurturing home with only the best care that he could provide. While he had initially known nothing of caring for babies and young children, he learned, and upheld the jointed responsibility of caring for his son himself, and not with house elves like many other pureblood families tended to do. His parents had always scolded him for "spoiling the baby early," but in all honesty, Lucius was only proper in helping Narcissa raise Draco as poor Wizarding families did, and ( _though he would never say so out loud_ ) he knew it. His young heir grew into a wonderful child, with a heart full of love and a mind full of knowledge.

However, as the years went on, Lucius became more and more apprehensive. He would later blame the Dark Lord's fall, but he knew, of course, that this happened much after he had believed the Dark Lord to be dead. Lucius would look at Draco, his lovely son, so perfect in every way, and a part of him would grow jealous. If such a child could, indeed, exist, so wonderful, why could it not have been himself? His own parents had been uncaring, typical pureblood wizards, not paying any particular attention to him until he had inherited their fortune after marriage. Then, they were correcting every single thing he did. He had made sure not to do that to Draco. Initially, he would shake off his envy and continue on with his life, ignoring the growing feeling inside him.

And one spectacular day, Lucius, for no particular reason, had found himself in his study by himself, with the door locked, tears forcing their way out of his eyes, unable to stand the pressure any longer. He did not like his emotions, as he had always been taught to repress them, and so he took a bottle of self-refilling fire whiskey from the shelf and took a large swig. He felt the hot liquid burn his throat as it went down, taking with it some of the pain. He drank and drank, becoming so intoxicated, he no longer could remember what he was doing. That night, he beat Narcissa for the first time when she caught him yelling at a young Draco who was only playing with toys. Draco cried in his room while his mother cradled a stinging cheek and broken wrist. Lucius merely passed out on the floor of his bedroom, waking the next morning to a note on his pillow stating that Narcissa wanted to leave him.

He, again, cried tears. He could not believe what he had done. He loved his son and his wife. And when his wife came to collect her things, he confunded her and altered her memory so she would forget. He tried his hardest to keep himself together as he sent a house elf to unpack Narcissa's things. He vowed never to do such a thing again.

He broke that vow, and it occurred several more times, each growing more serious than the last. Eventually, he didn't need to remove the memory from Narcissa, as she would not leave so she could care for Draco herself. Lucius became distanced from his family, losing track of his son's life. He needn't worry anymore about him, as Narcissa provided everything he needed, from brooms to books to toys. Draco lived a life of luxury and love until the summer just before his first year at Hogwarts.

"But dad," Draco had groaned, "why can't you just convince the teachers at Hogwarts to let me ride my broom? I wouldn't do anything bad. Honestly, I would just ride it. Mother would-" And without thinking, Lucius had hit his son. It was the first time that a single drop of alcohol had not touched his lips before he had done it. Draco had let tears slip as he gingerly touched the injured cheek.

"Stop your tears. Malfoys don't cry. Don't be so weak." The harsh words left his mouth and Draco ran to his room.

Lucius was shocked at his actions, but that part of him that sought out violence and punishment only grew with the Dark Lord. When Lord Voldemort himself decided to use their manor as his headquarters, the punishments grew fiercer. He would use the Cruciatus Curse on his son at least three times a month for bad behavior and talking back. The Dark Lord enjoyed viewing these punishments, and would sometimes even add his own. As much as Narcissa did to stop it all, she was powerless.

The portion of Lucius that had raised Draco, and truly loved him, looked upon the child that was once perfect, but now struggling and scarred. This part, however, would never be in control again until that faithful day when Voldemort lost and his family ran. His true self had been waiting for its own rebellion against the monster that ruled his body, and took the chance to spare his loved ones from the war.

But he had failed.

They were caught, and his evil side had returned, inflicting only more damage upon his family, sending his own wife to jail. Every night he would question himself.

_What am I?_   _What have I become?_  When he returned, it took all his might to send his son away so he could not hurt him any longer. He banished him, hoping his life would be better. But he was a selfish man, and his evil-self played upon that, bringing Draco back and locking him up in his room so he could lose his mind just as his mother was, both rotting away in their own cells, becoming cramped and craving company…

Every night it sickened him to have thought such thoughts. Alas, he could not stop. He craved the power he felt when he struck his son's face, feasting upon the pure terror that showed in Draco's eyes when he was around. Farther and farther the original Lucius drew from holding any power over his body. All that he could manage was letting tears fall late into the night.

His red rimmed eyes stared at his reflection in his mirror, lined with real silver with moving snakes slithering in circles. He could see how the years had treated him. His eyes had sunken in with puffy, dark bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep. He had distinct lines on his forehead. He felt as if he could be hundreds of years old, when he was actually only 45. His inner war had taken a toll on him, especially since the war was long lost.

Lucius recalled a time when he had shared some of the many things he had liked, so as to get his young, four-year-old son to tell his father what he liked.

"Well, I like the color silver. It's my favorite color." He smiled at his son. "It reminds me of the moon. And I also like to eat the roast the elves make on Christmas. That's my favorite food to eat. What color and food do you like?"

Little Draco giggled and replied, "I like silver, too. And roost."

Lucius had laughed. "Roast, Draco." He felt a sense of pride that his son was trying to be like him, even if he had never eaten roast before, and would not try it until Christmas that year.

He was ashamed, the good half of Lucius, that he had let all that go to waste. And yet, he still craved that monstrous power that he had. He knew that as long as he was alive, he would no longer be able to fight the monster inside himself.

Still bleeding and in pain, Draco could not bear to raise himself from the floor of his room. He had managed, after countless hours in the night, to drag himself there. He figured he had left a trail of blood, but he was sure the house elves would take care of it before his father saw it. Surely he wouldn't get a beating for leaving blood everywhere. He didn't think too hard on it, mostly because he was too filled with pain and nausea to think anything, really.

He laid on the floor with his head facing the window, praying to some divine force to kill him so he could stop suffering. Many times he had been in this position. And many times, he had just stayed here until his mother came in with tears in her eyes and some healing potions to fix him back up. But his mother was not here. She was in Azkaban. And so he had no hope of ever feeling better. Rather, he figured he would bleed to death before he would ever see his mother again. In fact, he would bleed to death before he ever saw moonlight again. He would never see his field. He would never see Harry. He was done. And so, he had given up. He was done for.

He heard a thump, and he looked over to the window. His hazy vision focused for a moment, and he caught sight of an incredibly small owl, trying to knock itself unconscious by hitting itself against the glass that would not budge. He saw the beak open, but he did not hear a sound. Draco stared at the owl, not moving an inch. Again, the owl opened its beak and ran into the glass. Finally, it flew away. Draco figured it had given up. His eyes grew hazy again as he looked at nothing in particular, and waited impatiently for his veins to run dry.

Of all the ways to go, Draco had not expected to die so slowly. He had figured it would be a killing curse in early life, if not old age. He remembered the last time he had been so close to death. Over a year ago, a few days before the Dark Lord was going to invade Hogwarts, his father had allowed Lord Voldemort to be the lone person to punish poor Draco, who had let his tongue slip. He had been frightened, more so than usual. Never had the Dark Lord had free range to do anything with him, and he was scared that the Dark Lord had suddenly thought twice about keeping him alive.

He had kneeled before the Dark Lord sitting on his throne in his Throne Room and spoken quietly only after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes, My Lord?"

Lord Voldemort had sized him up a moment. "For a child with such a smart mouth, you speak unconfidently."

There was another agonizing moment of silence, broken only by dangerously calm words, hissed as if the snake had spoken them instead.

"Young Malfoy, you will silence your tongue when the urge to insert a cutting remark presents itself upon your lips. Understood?"

"Yes, My Lord." He felt relieved, thinking that his punishment was over, and he had gotten off with a warning.

"And to make sure this lesson has set in…" The Dark Lord trailed off his sentence, hissing in Parseltongue to the snake around his neck.

In the darkness, Draco could only hear a hiss in reply and a mass lowering itself to the floor gently. He began to shake, fearing that he would not, in fact, be killed with a killing curse, but instead eaten by his snake. Nagini slithered over to Draco, wrapping her body around his torso tightly enough so he could not breathe, but not so much that she crushed his ribs. The Dark Lord stood from his throne and took a couple steps toward Draco as the snake's upper half encircled his throat. His heart pounded, as he knew not what awaited him. He could not breathe. Tears threatened to fall, something that would only urge the Dark Lord to torture him more.

Lord Voldemort flicked his wand and a sort of spotlight was placed over Draco as he dared not move a muscle as Nagini wound herself around him. With another commanded hiss from the Dark Lord, the snake bared her fangs and pierced the sensitive skin of his neck just barely. The venom took effect, entering Draco's bloodstream, and he could feel his veins burning like acid as it moved through his body. It spread fast, taking only a few seconds to reach his brain, engulfing it, too, in a burning sensation, and in a minute, his feet. His eyes soon burned too, leaking crimson blood from them as he cried in pain. Another minute more, he would have been dead, but his mother came forth, injected him with the anti-venom, as instructed by Lord Voldemort, and the venom left his veins slowly, leaving every blood vessel feeling literally burned.

"You may be on your way, then, young Draco." That day had been the peak of his fears of dying.

There was another large thump, this time at Draco's door. He made no effort to move, for if it was his father, he would merely open the unlocked handle and smite Draco where he lay. He almost welcomed it. From behind the door, however, there was the familiar squawk of Hermione's owl, which had rammed into the window. If he were in better shape, he would have opened the door and read the letter, but the effort seemed impossible. Yet another thump as the owl ran into the door with a sad hoot to follow, and Draco closed his eyes, wishing he could read what Hermione had to say.

The owl was determined, and began to peck the wood of the door as hard as it could. Draco was thankful for the effort on the owl's part, but figured it would give up as readily as he had, laying on the floor bleeding as he was, yet still it pecked. As the owl seemed to be making no progress, its pecks only grew in power, until finally, it made a hole. The owl's head crashed through the door and it turned its head to see Draco and hooted softly. It squeezed its still reduced body through the hole and, more or less, waddled over to Draco, nibbling at his bloody fingers affectionately before holding out its leg. Draco only stared and dared not move. How brave that owl was to deliver a message to a dying wizard. A tear slipped down his cheek in amazement.

Realizing that he was not getting the letter, the owl nibbled at the string around the parchment and pulled the letter from his leg and, using his beak along with his foot, unraveled it just before Draco's face so he could read it.

_Dear Draco,  
Where on earth did you head off to? Your trial was settled. All charges were officially dropped, even though you had left, and they are still investigating who was the one to use the Imperious Charm on the Minister. Reply as soon as you can. I'm worried about you._

_Love,  
Hermione_

Draco let more tears slip down his cheeks. With all his remaining effort, he lifted his hand, fingers bloody and torn with cuts on every finger, and tried to make words on the parchment with his own blood as ink.

Once he finished, Draco rested his hand down again, his head feeling light. The owl proceeded to roll up the letter once more and pick it up with its beak and leave back out the hole in the door that it had created. More and more, Draco lost blood, so much, that the floor around him grew red. His eyes grew hazy and dim, blurring the window he had stared at for hours. He finally lost consciousness and fell into darkness.

* * *

**Harry's POV:**

For hours, I had sat in that spot. I never moved from the clearing. I never thought about moving. I waited for Cygnus to return. Surely he needed some time to consider everything. I knew he wouldn't take it lightly; he needed time. But the night proceeded on, and a new sun burst from the horizon and shone its morning rays through the hole in the ground above me, and still he had not returned. Panic rose inside me as I realized that he might not be coming back.

_That's absurd,_  I thought.  _Did you hear everything he told you earlier? He doesn't care who you are! He loves you! He probably just…fell asleep again…_

And I continued to wait.

I waited on, looking around the clearing, taking in every detail of the trees and the grass. The tree before me stood about 16 and had exactly 6 main branches that I could see coming off the trunk, perfectly spread so that it seemed balanced, oddly enough. Not one side of the tree had too many leaves. The one next to it was leaning to the right with one branch sticking straight up and another three around it, making it seem almost as if it were standing up straight, until you looked at the trunk. All the trees had the same dull brown trunk with orange cracks, leaves with dark green tops and pale undersides with hidden red berry-like fruit under the small groups of white flowers. I tried to place what type of trees surrounded me to let the time pass me by, even if I had no idea what types of trees there were, let alone what they look like.

After some time, I let my curiosity in the trees pass and decided to have more curiosity in the objects that lay behind the bushes. Cygnus had pulled his things from there. I wondered what he had. When I pulled back the bushes, I found only a bag with a book sitting on top. I picked up the book and opened to the first page, wondering what he was reading about, and yet there was not a single word on the blank pages. I flipped through the entire book, not finding anything. I sighed and looked at the cover, thinking that maybe he had some sort of spell to reveal what he was reading. One word engraved itself onto the hardcover, _Open_. I opened the book, and in it was a short paragraph.

_I_   _am a story many cannot unravel_

_Yet I hold so many words in my pages_

_To anywhere that you may travel_

_For you I provide knowledge through the ages_

_All you must do is think_

_A clever wizard shall know_

_Any book you seek in a blink_

_Far past reading you can go_

_Just imagine a theme_

_For it is closer than it may seem_

I smiled. He didn't just have one book; he had any book he could ever want. I flipped to the next page, concentrating hard on the book telling me about trees. At first, the page was blank except for the words  _Don't hurt yourself thinking so hard_ , but they eventually vanished and more words faded in.

_A tree is probably the most common, naturally growing or cultivated, living organism you will ever encounter on a daily basis. Most people I know have a real desire to learn more about a tree including looking at a tree in hopes to identify that tree. For every area, there are different trees. If you are looking for a tree in a particular area, flip to that chapter._

_North America: page 2_

_South America: page 17_

_Europe: page 29_

I stopped reading and flipped the page, thinking ( _not as hard this time_ ) about flipping straight to page 29.

_In northwestern Europe there are as you will know relatively few native tree-species because of the influence of the Ice Age. Especially in the south-east, there are more species. The Caucasian region and the north of Iran are-_

I sighed and instead thought about the features of the trees surrounding the clearing _._

_Little white flowers, red berries, leaf shape, trunk color…_  I flipped the page to an entirely different book, since the font was much different.

_Hawthorn (genus Crataegus or Rhaphiolepis) is a term used to refer to any member of either the Crataegus or (less commonly) the Rhaphiolepis genus. Both are within the Rose family (Rosaceae). Hawthorn has been known for being full of paradoxes, with leaves and blossoms that heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death._

_Hawthorn,_  I thought. I flipped the page for more information on Hawthorn, maybe something about the trees berries.

_Hawthorn berries are used to promote the health of the circulatory system, treat angina, high blood pressure, congestive heart failure and cardiac arrhythmia and has been found to strengthen the heart. Hawthorn is widely regarded in Europe as a safe and effective treatment for the early stages of heart disease and has been used for a number of ailments including angina, myocarditis, arteriosclerosis, nervous conditions like insomnia, and diarrhea. It has also been indicated for strengthening blood vessels, vascular insufficiency and blood clots, restoring the heart muscle wall, lowering cholesterol and to aid digestion._

I felt like I was reading a textbook. It was quite boring. In my boredom, I could feel my anxiety rising once more. I flipped the page again, hoping for something more interesting to distract me.

_Hawthorn is one of the few types of wood used to produce wands. Hawthorn wands may be particularly suited to healing magic, but they are also adept at curses, and it has been generally observed that the hawthorn wand seems most at home with a conflicted nature, or with a witch or wizard passing through a period of turmoil._

With my not-so-immense knowledge of wandlore, I found my interest peaked. I hadn't realized Hawthorn was used as wand wood. Even if I had ever known anyone with a hawthorn wand, I never would have made the connection anyway, unless my own wand had been hawthorn. But, of course, it was Holly. And so I flipped the page to learn more about wandlore and holly.

_Holly is one of the rarer kinds of wand woods; traditionally considered protective, it works most happily for those who may need help overcoming a tendency to anger and impetuosity. At the same time, holly wands often choose owners who are engaged in some dangerous and often spiritual quest. Holly is one of those woods that varies most dramatically in performance depending on the wand core._

With a face mixed with confusion and curiosity, I pulled my wand from my pocket and looked it over.

_My wand wood was rare? I needed help overcoming anger? Well, yes, I can't argue there. Dangerous quest? Most certainly._ My mind quickly side-tracked to how I had once had a huge quest to defeat Voldemort, and then I remembered how Riddle had once had a wand that was a twin to my own, with phoenix feathers from the same bird. But we hadn't had the same wood. That would have been odd having a wand like Voldemort, the Dark Wizard I was supposed to defeat. But I'm sure if he had, instead, gotten a wand with Hawthorn in it, he might have been too conflicted to be so evil in the first place...

I looked back to the book and noticed the now orange sunlight spilling through the hole onto its pages. The sun was beginning to set. In a few hours, I would have waited exactly 24 hours for Cygnus to return. I didn't mind. He could have weeks, months even, to take in what I had told him. I would wait. Surely, he would have to come back to his own private world sometime, and I would be here waiting when he did.

I closed the book and placed it back onto the bag behind the bush and ran a hand through my hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white. I looked to see a silvery otter float over to me, with Hermione's voice.

"Harry, something terrible has happened to Draco. I won't explain now, but you have to help. Meet me at the front of Hogwarts right now."

As confused as I was, I did as she said, standing and disapperating before the otter had even vanished. My feet touched down and I was just before the entrance to Hogwarts and there was Hermione, eyes red and puffy as she handed me a letter with blood smeared all over it.

_Stuck in room_ __  
_Dying_ _  
_ _Draco_

I couldn't read anything underneath it, as the blood, looking a bit dried now, had been absorbed into the parchment. The words were terrifying enough without being written in blood.

_Dying?_  I looked to Hermione, who walked over to me and turned, apparating us right before Malfoy Manor.

"Brace yourself, Harry."


	17. Mend for Mending's Sake

**Harry's POV:**

As much as I wanted to be there when Cygnus returned to his beloved field, I ( _most unfortunately_ ) had an obligation to help people in danger, not because I wanted glory or whatever, but because I felt as if it was my duty as a decent person. Really, it didn't matter who was in trouble ( _with the exceptions of Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix, and Voldemort_ ), as I would help them no matter what. Considering that I had already saved his life once, I figured that this should make up for that time I almost accidentally killed him by using a spell, of which I had no knowledge about other than the incantation. I still felt sort of bad for that.

Hermione tugged my arm around toward the side of the house. They had a thick and tall gate, looking to be made of marble but with the texture of wrought iron.

"Under here," she pointed to a bush with tiny white flowers, little red berries, and dark green leaves with pale undersides.

_Hawthorne_ , I thought absently.

I pulled my wand from my pocket, preparing myself for anything that might come my way as I squeezed into the small, hidden passageway. I almost got stuck a few times, mostly because my shoulders were…too broad ( _it's not my fault. Blame genetics_ ). Once I did manage to make it through, I fell onto the floor of the tunnel, unaware that it was so deep. Hermione slipped in right after me, and she led the way so that we popped back up in the corner of the garden that windows from the house could not see. We remained as close to the ground as we could, and yet it seemed that their spacious house was empty.

The sky grew darker as Hermione finally stood and opened the back door into the house, as if we had been guests this whole time and not intruders planning to…well, I wasn't too sure exactly what we were doing just yet. Yes, we were going to save Draco, but afterwards, I wasn't so sure. What would cause someone to need saving from their own house, anyway?

Together, we walked down the empty halls, up a few staircases, turning left here and right here. By the time we had reached the right hallway, I wasn't sure I could ever escape this place; it was like a maze designed to make you go in circles.

_Maybe he needs saving because he got lost…_  Hermione stopped right at the start of the hallway and was staring intently at the floor. I followed her eyes and saw that on the black marble floor, there was an undeniable trail of blood, like someone had dragged a dead body through here after stabbing it several times. Hermione stepped over the trail and followed it on with me right behind her. We gained speed to our destination, as the atmosphere grew only more anxious as we followed the blood to the correct room. We slowed as we approached a door with a hole near the bottom. I found it curious, but did not ask questions.

"Here," Hermione said at last. Her hand grabbed the doorknob and drew back just as quickly, a gasp escaping from her.

"It shocked me."

" _ **Alohomora**_ ," I cast at the knob, but there was no click to signify that it had been unlocked.

"Draco," Hermione called, lowering her eyes to see through the hole.

"Draco! My god, what has he done to you?" Her voice began to quiver. "We're going to get you out. I promise. We'll just…" She stood.

" _ **Bombarda**_!" The door exploded, sending flying pieces of wood everywhere. She sent a quick clean up spell after it, and the pieces of wood swept themselves up off to the side.

"Oh, Draco." Hermione kneeled down next to a mound of bloody and tattered clothing which I figured was Draco.

In this state, he was so unrecognizable, all vulnerable and bleeding, lying on the floor unable to do anything. It reminded me of our time in that bathroom once again, and guilt washed over me. Hermione pulled a potion from her purse, uncapped it, and turned to me.

"You'll need to turn him over. Be gentle."

I gave a single nod.

" _ **Wingardium Leviosa**_ ," and Draco's body rose and turned over so that his bruised and bleeding face was up. His grey eyes looked to me, filled with a desperate look completely new to my list of known facial expressions, though I'm sure there was a point when I myself wore it. He could feel himself coming closer to death.

Hermione lifted the potion carefully into his mouth and the bottle emptied itself.

"Let's try some healing spells as well. I…We want to make sure you…" Hermione bit her lip and pulled her wand out, chanting under her breath.

I only knew a few simple healing spells that most likely would not help much, but I kneeled beside Draco as well, casting  _ **Episky**_  at every wound and watching as every cut grew slimmer as the skin drew back together and burns grew less and less red. Hermione and I worked for a good half hour, and when we finished, Draco sat up, half his face still purple.

"We're going to get you out of here, Draco," Hermione whispered.

He put a hand to his face, hiding his eyes. "Hermione, you aren't supposed to be here. My father could be coming any minute. Get out while you can." Tears poured down both their faces now.

"We can't leave you here. You know what he'll do to you. You were barely conscious when we got here. Look, there's blood everywhere.  _Your_  blood. We will not let him do that again."

"If we leave, you're coming with us," I said, "and if you stay, we stay." There was a moment of quiet, filled only by their unregulated breathing. I added, "But I'd rather not stay, so let's go."

Draco sighed. "You don't understand. My…if I leave, he'll just get me back, and it will be this all over again."

I would have to ask Hermione later who exactly "he" was.

"Then we'll come get you again." It was simple in my mind. Why was it so complicated to him?

"But he'll know that someone's helping me. He'll go after you both."

"Do you think Hermione and I can't handle him? After knowing us for, what, eight years now?"

"Draco," Hermione said, "we don't care. Your safety is what's important right now. We'll worry about him later. Let's just go. Hurry, before it's too dark to see properly." Without any more protests, Draco let Hermione help him up, and we ( _more or less_ ) carried him back out to the hallway and back the way we came. How Hermione remembered the path was beyond me. We made our way back to the garden, the light from any windows becoming dimmer and dimmer, fading into moonlight. When we were back outside, Hermione went down the secret passageway first and I helped Draco down so if he fell, she would be there to catch him.

Together, we walked through the passage and back up the hole underneath the bush on the other side of the large gate. Once we all three made it out, Hermione turned on the spot and we apparated to the entrance of Hogwarts.

"Let's get you to Madame Pomfrey." Hermione and I helped Draco all the way to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey took him without question and began treating him immediately.

"I'll need you both to wait outside. I may have to give him some quite nasty potions…" she trailed off and continued to scurry around.

Hermione took a seat on the floor next to the door, so I joined her. We sat in silence until I asked, "So, are you going to fill me in on exactly what happened to him? What were we saving him from?" She sighed and rubbed her temples.

"Draco's father treats him just awfully. He beats him whenever he can. You remember that bruise he had at the celebration. It's just been getting worse and worse. And with Draco's mom being in Azkaban, he has no one to stop it. Yesterday…well I'm not positive it's true, but I'm pretty sure…Draco's dad used the Imperious curse on the Minister of Magic and had a whole trial set up to send Draco to Azkaban, only to kidnap him and…do that," she gestured to the door, "to him."

There was a moment of silence, deep in the air, that stuck to my voice and refused to let it escape. Many thoughts ran through my mind, about Draco, about Hermione, about Cygnus. While a part of me grew anxious not being able to wait for Cygnus, thinking that he would return and find me gone again, possibly thinking I had just been another dream, there was also a part that anchored me here. I figured it was decency. After saving someone's life, it's usually a good idea to stick around and make sure they are alright ( _unless you have a dark lord to defeat to save the Wizarding world, then it's alright to just leave)_.

An hour we waited, not speaking a word to each other, but sharing the concern that always seems to visit when near the Hospital Wing. Finally, Madame Pomfrey opened the door, ushering us in with a gesture. Hermione and I shared a look of hope before we stood and followed her in. While we had helped Draco a bit at his house, he was definitely nowhere near as good-looking as he was now ( _I mean, he looked positively healthy now, not handsome. Not that he isn't handsome! He just…was completely healed_ ). All the bruises had faded back into his normal skin color, and every cut was gone with blood cleared away, though some of his hair seemed to be slightly reddish in color.

"He suffered some pretty nasty cursing. Took quite a lot to fix him. He's lucky I got to him when I did." Madame Pomfrey looked to Hermione, and they shared what seemed to be an entire conversation with only facial expressions. I looked to the ground, trying not to eavesdrop on their unspoken words. Suddenly, I felt quite out of place. I belonged back in that field…

"Hey, Potter," Draco called out, sitting upright in his bed.

I turned my head, almost thinking I had misheard that we was talking to me. After making my way to the side of his bed, I replied, "Yes?"

His eyes narrowed and he looked me up and down suspiciously. "Did you mean what you said?"

"I usually mean what I say, but could you be more specific?"

He looked away for a moment, but locked eye contact with me when he said, "You said you would go save me again if he took me away. Did you mean it?"

I merely shrugged. "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I? If you haven't noticed, I'm sort of a Gryffindor, set on saving people's lives." The words had sounded much more sarcastic in my head than when I had said them out loud in a sort of quiet, unconfident tone.

He nodded, looking away. "Do you know?"

I tilted my head. "Know what, exactly?"

"How I…how this happened."

I looked back to the ground.

"Yeah. Hermione told me."

As much as I felt I should apologize, I didn't. What should I apologize for? It wasn't my fault his dad was evil. Still, I felt sorry that he had to live like that. I would go through living with the Dursley's over having a father who beat me.

Our conversation seemed to end there. Even if he hadn't said it, surely he was happy to have gotten away from that place alive. Madame Pomfrey and Hermione came over to us, finished with their conversation as well.

"Can I leave now?" Draco ran a hand through his hair.

Madame Pomfrey looked stern. No matter how old we got, she still seemed to think she was the final say.

"You should stay until morning. It's late, anyway. And from what little of your story I've heard," she glanced at Hermione, "You cannot return home anyway."

Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I have a…new home. I won't be returning to Malfoy Manor until my bones have rotted away." He sounded bitter, but looked fearful.

"You really should stay here and get some sleep," urged Hermione. "You'll feel better in the morning."

From the look in his eyes, I could tell sleep was the last thing on his mind. I quite understood that feeling. If he stayed in the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey would probably just about force him to sleep.

"You can stay in my room here if you want. There's a bed there, and it's still inside Hogwarts, so if don't feel good, you can just come back here."

He met my eyes. "Where will you sleep?"

"I…uh…actually was planning to be somewhere else tonight. I'm…waiting on someone."

There was a brief pause before he started, "Harry, I-"

"Don't protest about it. It's a great room," I stopped from rolling my eyes. Why couldn't he just take my kindness? "I know it's not Slytherin, but honestly, it's a great room. At least you'll have some comfort of being in a bedroom instead of being alone in the Hospital Wing." I looked over to Madame Pomfrey. "Would that be better?"

She looked hesitant, but agreed at last. "But if you feel even a bit of pain, or nausea, you are marching right back up here, understood?"

Draco nodded and stood, walking right out the door. Hermione walked right after him, and I followed right after thanking Madame Pomfrey and wishing her a goodnight. By the time I had gotten out into the hall, Hermione was pulling her hand away from Draco, and he stared at the small item in his hand. I tried to pretend that I didn't care as to what she had given him, as not to appear nosy.

"I'll show you to my room, then?"

He squeezed the item in his hand and put it by his side. "Lead the way."

* * *

**Draco's POV:**

Harry could be really oblivious when he tried. I had tried to tell him I was Cygnus, and that waiting overnight in the field waiting for me was hopeless if I was going to stay in his room at Hogwarts. And speaking of, what was he doing offering me his room? He had no idea I was Cygnus, so what was with the kindness? Surely he wasn't hitting on me, was he? I don't think I could stand it if the love of my life was cheating on me with me.

I clutched my ring in my hand, concentrating on how and when I should tell Harry I was Cygnus. It would have to be soon, and it would have to be somewhere in the field, or by my lake, so we could be alone. What would he think? I mean, it wouldn't be anything like  _how could he lie to me like this_  since he had been disguising himself, too. Probably something like  _oh my gosh, I'm in love with my childhood enemy_ ( _come to think of it, that would make a great movie, or book_ ). He would probably see me differently, ( _as in the figurative sense, not literal_ ). Could I stand having him look at me and knowing he could be thinking of the names I called him in school instead of the love I had for him now? I had to make sure that he was ready to hear it when I told him.

We had now walked up the stairs that were near Gryffindor Tower, turning down a hallway I had never been down before. We passed all sorts of doors, and I wondered if there was anyone staying in them. At least twenty doors had gone by before Harry stopped. Surely there weren't  _that_  many guests staying at Hogwarts.

"Here we are." Harry opened the door and gestured inside sort of awkwardly. "Sorry it's not completely clean. I haven't really spent much time in here recently."

I almost replied that I knew that, but stopped, biting my tongue. "Thanks."

I went over and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling weird to be on his bed alone, as I had imagined many times him being beside me.

"Come on, Harry." Hermione pulled him out of the room, saying a quick, "Sleep well," over her shoulder, and closing the door behind her. I was now alone in Harry Potter's room, so of course, I did what anyone would do: snoop around instead of sleep.

I stood and made my way over to his chair, finding only piles of dirty clothes.  _Nothing interesting here._  I walked over to the tiny bedside table, seeing nothing really worth looking at until I pulled out the drawer. Inside was a journal of sorts. I picked it up and opened it. Between the front cover and first page was a note, which I pulled out and read.

_Dear Harry,  
I know you'll object, but I'm giving you this journal to write your dreams in. After all that business with You-Know-Who and nightmares, it would be best to really know if he's gone for good; Headmistress McGonagall agrees. You don't have to share it with anyone if you don't want to, but I have to read it, at least, occasionally._

_Just so you know, when you write in it, the journal will interpret it. If anything thing omen-like comes up, tell me at once. We want to keep your mind safe._

_Sincerely,  
Hermione_

I placed the note back in and began reading the first entry ( _I'll spare you what it said exactly_ ). After reading it, I thought to myself how very vague and deep dreams could be. I turned to the next page, noticing he had started his entry with "Dear Journal thing," and that the first word on the page was "Sorry." He was unusually polite to his journal. I figured all the other entries would be just about as vague and symbolic as the first two, and decided to look elsewhere. He really didn't have much in his room; just clothes, which could easily fit into 1/8 of my closet, necessary toiletries, such as a toothbrush and comb ( _though I'm sure he must not use the comb much_ ), and a few personal items.

Underneath his bed, Harry kept a small, moleskin pouch. The pouch was open, and I could see something shiny inside. When I put my hand inside, I felt a smooth, round surface, grabbed, and removed it from the bag. It was a snitch. While its wings didn't open, as it would probably only do that for Harry, I could barely see their outline against the gold surface. I turned it around, trying to get a better look at them, but instead found engraved words.

" _I open at the close._ " I didn't quite understand what it meant, or why the words were there, but surely it meant something to Harry if he had kept it. I replaced the snitch inside the bag and pulled out now a piece of parchment.

_Dear Padfoot,  
Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself, I'm enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground, but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course, James thought it was funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player, but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going. We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda, who has always been sweet to us, and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn't come, but the Order's got to come first, and Harry's not old enough to know it's his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell - also, Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend, I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the news about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard. Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore, I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually, because it seems incredible that Dumbledore-_

And the rest of the letter was ripped off. While I had almost no idea who some of the mentioned people were, I could discern that the person writing the letter was related to Harry. Obviously I knew who Dumbledore was, but Wormy, Bathilda, Padfoot, James, and Petunia were absolute mysteries. It almost seemed as if they were speaking with code names. After putting back the letter, I removed a torn picture. I could see a little Harry, zooming in and out of the photo and a figure standing, most of the body cut from the picture.

I sighed and put it back into the pouch and closed it. All of the things Harry owned were so personal, I had no idea what they were or what they meant. Really, he had nothing worthy of snooping for, which left me bored, with nothing to do for hours.

Really, I felt like going back to the clearing in the forest and explaining myself to Harry. Had he just sat there waiting since I left? I mean, I hadn't meant to leave. He probably thought I needed some time to think, or something ridiculous like that. He must be feeling less and less hopeful. But then again, this was Harry Potter; the moment he lost hope was the moment the apocalypse came. He'll probably be waiting for me all night in the clearing like a lost puppy…

The last time I had used those words, I had just before been scared half to death by Harry. I guess now it made sense why he had been at that park so close to the field. Back then I had been so scared that he would interfere with my love for Hyden. Really, I would have never guessed back that I was trying to stop myself from loving him, just to love him in disguise. How ironic.

I laid down on the hardwood floor next to his bed, feeling tired of holding myself up, but not anywhere near feeling sleepy. With random thoughts going through my head, I realized that it had been a considerably long time since I had last looked at any of my things. I missed my book that could be anything I wanted to read, and my odd marbles that had somehow merged together. As I last recalled, I had a large green one with grey inside it and a large grey one with red inside it. Before, they had been symbols of the Dark Lord, but I was sure that they no longer had any connection to that anymore, as they were completely different now. A green marble with grey in its center could represent anything, and I thought of things to fit it.

_What was green? Green meant life, and nature. It could be… my field, though I have no idea how the grey would play in there. Or it could be the manor, green for my father and grey being me, trapped inside. And what was grey with red inside? Me, bleeding because I was stuck inside the manor. No, that didn't seem right._  Bored thoroughly now, I could feel just how much my mind really had gone all those days stuck in that room, as the insanity came back so simply. A glittering black mass soared through the closed window, practically blending in with the night sky. The mass swirled in circles and finally landed by my side, its eyes opening to reveal large shining silver slits, reflecting light that did not exist.

"Paisley! How did you know I was here?"

The dragon, acting much like a snake, seemed to hiss his reply. "It wasn't so difficult. You always leave a trail behind for me to follow." The dragon laid its head on my shoulder. "What were you thinking about, Draco?"

"Well," I sighed, "I was just thinking about my marbles. Now that they've changed, what should they represent?" The dragon, highly intelligent since it often spent the days I was not at the manor reading as many books as it could in the library.

"What is the color of the first one?"

"It's dark green with a light grey center."

If I hadn't known better, I would have said Paisley was purring.

"Well, before they represented people, and now that they've merged together, they must represent new people." Paisley lifted his head and gazed at me. "If you could describe people with colors, who would be green?"

I shrugged.

"My father, me, my mother." Paisley shook his head.

"You are thinking about their previous meaning. Do not think of green as a dark color, but a loyal color; a color that evokes you to think lively, and yet is so calming to you."

Pondering, I could not provide any more people that the marble could represent.  _Someone that made me think lively, but calm me at the same time?_

"Well, what about the grey center? What would that mean?"

Shaking the perfect dragon head attached to his very black, almost serpentine body, Paisley replied, "I'm sure you will find some sort of connection after you have fit a person to the green color."

I closed my eyes, and pictured the deep green color and let my thoughts wonder around it.  _Dark green like the leaves on my Hawthorn trees_. My wand was made of Hawthorn, so I felt somewhat connected to the wood.

_But surely the marble isn't me. I represented green in the old marbles._ And my thoughts took off again.  _My wand…Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Reasonably springy, Olivander had told me that faithful day when I had gotten my wand. Harry once took my wand. He ended up giving me it back after my trial had finished. He had looked right at me and handed it to me. Looked right into my soul with those emerald green eyes of his…_

"That's it!" I looked to Paisley, completely unstartled by my sudden outburst. "Harry's the green marble."

Paisley grinned, revealing shiny, pointed teeth. "And what could the grey in the center possibly mean?" Once again, I shrugged.

"I have no idea. Can we skip to the next marble?"

"Of course. Who is the next marble?"

"It's grey, so it's me," I said automatically. I looked to Paisley and finally asked the forbidden question. "Paisley, are you real?"

The large silver eyes blinked. "I am afraid not, dear Draco. I am only a projection of the inner workings of your own mind, giving you information you already had, asking questions you were asking yourself. Really, I am just part of you."

"Oh," I said. "Well, at least I know there's a part of my mind smarter than the rest of it."

"Fair enough," Paisley said, "fair enough."

* * *

**Hermione's POV:**

"Harry, I know you want to go back, but trust me, this is much more necessary."

He turned and gave me an incredulous look. "Cygnus could be back, waiting for me to go back so he can say how sorry he was that he left so suddenly and that he realized how much he loves me, no matter who I really am. How is that less important than anything? That's what I want. That's what will make me happy."

I sighed. He really wasn't making this easy for me.

"Harry, I'm serious. We have to do this, and before the sun comes up. I thought you would be all up for it since you couldn't do anything before."

"I have to see Cygnus. If that means I have to wait all night for him, then I will. Go do it without me."

Now I gave him an incredulous look. "You're joking! There is no way I can do this alone. I don't think anyone can do it alone."

"Well Sirius-"

"…had your father and moony to help him become an Animagus during their school days, and without that, he never could have done it by himself."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, knowing that I was right, but not quite done looking for a retort.

"Hermione, I can't just leave Cygnus alone. What if he's there waiting for me, thinking I've changed my mind, or that I was just a figment of his imagination. I don't want him to be waiting. I have to see him."

Looking at Harry, I'm not sure I ever saw more determination in his eyes. It didn't matter to him how long he had known Cygnus, because he had known Draco for years and was just now starting to see him, and love him.

"Alright. We'll…make a quick visit. You can leave him a note, but then we have to go."

A grin appeared on his face. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Of course. But afterwards we have to stop by the Burrow." We had just made it to the entrance of Hogwarts and we turned and appeared in the field where everything had begun. "I'm sure Ron wouldn't want to miss breaking someone out of Azkaban."

Harry was smiling big now. "Wow, it gonna be just like old times, then? Except, we're going to be doing things against the law first before doing the right thing."

I grinned and thought of all our years at Hogwarts, hardly remembering a time when he hadn't been doing something against the rules. "Just like old times."


	18. A Secret to Pass

**3rd**   **P** **erson POV:**

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had finally decided, against Hermione's constant resistance, to go on ahead without a plan. They had no idea what the prison looked like, as they had never been inside it before, and since they had ridden of the Dementors, they could not just pull out their wands and cast Patronus charms everywhere. There would be guards, possibly heavy charms to keep prisoners inside, maybe even some traps for those trying to bust people out. Honestly, they had no idea what to expect just going into Azkaban and breaking out Draco's mother.

"Ron! Harry! How can you both be so idiotic? We're going to get caught without a plan."

"Look, Hermione, as of right now, the plan is get into Azkaban, grab Draco's mom, get out, and ask the Minister for a pardon for her." Harry had said it countless times, but she would just no accept that answer.

"Yes, but  _how? How_  are we going to do all those things? We can't just simply walk into Azkaban, grab her, and walk out again."

"Mione," Ron spoke up, "we have no idea what could be in there. We just have to keep a simple plan that we can change as we go to make up for that." Still, she shook her head.

"I cannot  _believe_  you two."

"Sorry, Hermione. You were out-voted." Harry gave a shrug.

They all knew how difficult it would be to do this, as the island wasn't on any map and it was in the middle of the North Sea ( _that much they had deciphered_ ). They weren't even sure they would be able to find it if the prison had a concealment charm on it.

"Well, let's at least use my plan on how to get there." Hermione had made a fairly detailed plan on the excursion they were about to go on, though she accounted that there would be many,  _many_  more obstacles than she probably included. Really, most of it was no good. The beginning, however, was ingenious.

"But I told you, 'Mione, I can't do a Disillusionment Charm. You can't make me an invisibility cloak, either, because what would we do if it stopped working? I can't fit under Harry's anymore without our calves showing."

Hermione looked sour. "Then I guess you're not coming."

Harry sighed and looked at the floor as they proceeded to begin arguing.

"Well it's too late; I'm going, so fix your plan."

"Fix my plan? But it's perfect. There's no way to alter it without causing any other problems. It would just be best to leave you here and have just Harry and I go."

"Perfect? You just won't admit that there was a problem you hadn't accounted for and try to blame me for it."

"That's  _preposterous_! I accounted for everything!"

"Guys-" Harry tried to interrupt, to no avail.

"If you had, it wouldn't have been a problem to just include me in somewhere, considering the spell skills I have!" Harry just sighed, grabbed both their wrists, turned, and apparated to the Ministry, where their journey would begin.

"What spell skills? I don't think exploding socks from your sock drawer counts as spell skills when you were trying to put them away!"

"I just as easily could have done it right if you 'adn't been there to distract me, talking about the letter you got from Krum!"

"I told you, it didn't mean anything! Viktor was just keeping in touch!"

The whole time, Harry's head had been shooting back and forth around them, making sure they didn't draw too much attention to themselves before they even started, but of course, their argument only raised in volume, and so Harry put up a spell so no one could hear them yelling at one another.

" _ **Muffliato**_!" And still, the arguing continued as if no one else was there.

"…and you know how I feel about that!"

"Well  _pardon me_  for having friends in other countries!"

" _Friends?_  You dated him! You took him to the Yule Ball!"

"Oh  _honestly_ , Ron! Are you that oblivious! I was just trying to make you jealous!"

"You were  _trying_  to make me jealous?! Well, you certainly got was you wanted, didn't you?!"

"I can't believe how much you really think that I would be interested in him after all we've been through!"

"No! Don't put this all back on me!  _You're_  the one who made me so jealous in the first place!"

Harry just stopped listening.

_We're going to be late._  He had his invisibility cloak with him ( _as Hermione had taken it just before she had dragged Harry away, leaving Draco in Harry's room_ ) and his wand; that was all he really needed for this quest, and so he headed off by himself, leaving the bickering couple behind, completely unaware that he was gone.

He put the invisibility cloak on and walked straight over to the lift. As Hermione's plan had gone, he went to the temporary prison, where criminals were kept just before they were sent to Azkaban. Once there, he only found that there were two men there. He looked around, finally seeing the Ministry Official and an Azkaban guard come forth and place a full Body-Bind curse at the two prisoners and drag them from their cell. Harry followed them to a ferry, which was much larger than need-be for these two prisoners, looking to accommodate about 25 to 30 criminals at a time. The criminals were thrown into yet another cell, and then the Ministry official waved his farewell to the guard, and the ferry left the dock into the sea.

The guard cast a spell over the ferry, and the colors faded away until it seemed that all that was there was the water underneath the ferry, the guard, and the prisoners floating in midair, still under a Body-Bind. The ferry went on, and Harry sat on the invisible floor, careful not to reveal himself under the cloak. It was generally a very casual ride. Even when the ferry came upon a thick mist, the guard merely tossed a spell at it like it was nothing. When the thick mist parted, there was Azkaban. The building was much shorter and thinner than Harry thought it would be, but just as dirty and solid looking. The midnight water turned black around the island, and the guard steered the ferry to a small dock. Another guard from the dock felt around on the side of the ferry, finally finding something, and tying a rope around it. Once the rope was secure, the normal color of the boat returned, and the first guard went and got the prisoners.

Harry followed them off the ferry and into the stone building, parting from them only after they had thrown the criminals into the cell.

"Hey, Traker," The ferry guard had called to the other, "D'ya think I could stay here for the night. I'm so tired, I don't think I could ride that boat without fallin' asleep."

"Yeah, that's fine. Must warn ya, though. This isn't no hotel. It's a prison."

"As long as there's a bed, I'll make it to morning." Seeing his time to get off the island, Harry figured he had until dawn to think of a way to get Draco's mother out with him. He tip-toed away, regretting not casting a silencing spell on his feet before he had reached stone floors. Harry walked around on each floor, passing doors and reading their inscriptions, looking and not finding what he was searching for. He went up levels and levels, still not finding her. He had reached the ninth floor, trying hard not to breathe too hard, as all his rushing and running up staircases was stealing his breath. Continuing to look, but at a much slower pace, he read each inscription and passed them by. Harry had been focusing more on how to quiet his breathing when he almost passed her door.

_Narcissa Malfoy_. Slowly, he sat down beside her door, now thinking of how to get her out of the cell and what to do with her once he had succeeded, assuming, of course, that he would succeed.

_I'm pretty sure_ _ **Alohomora**_ _won't open the door. I must need some sort of spell or something to open it, but what?_  He looked around, seeing a guard asleep on a cot in the middle of the hallway. It was so dark now, Harry wouldn't have seen him if he hadn't looked hard enough. He didn't know how long he had until sunrise, but he couldn't really do anything until the sky began to lighten up.

But then again, Harry couldn't just sit there and wait to save anyone either.

Harry stood and pulled on the door, expecting to have it not budge a little bit, but instead almost falling over when the door swung open. He quickly caught himself and crept inside, taking off his shoe and placing it in the door, because the door clearly wouldn't be opened from the inside so simply. When he was about to turn around to Ms. Malfoy, a hand came to his throat with a knife.

"I don't know who you are," said a high voice in a hoarse whisper, "but I have no toleration for practical jokes among the guards. If you would be so kind as to leave without any further hesitation, you are very free to tell your guards what you want without losing your head. Next time, you should not be so foolish as to reveal your feet under your Disillusionment charm."

With a weapon to his throat, it was quite difficult for Harry to raise his voice enough so she could hear him but control it so that he did not let out a yelp of any sort.

"Mrs. Malfoy, it's Harry Potter. I've come to get you out so we can beg the Minister for your pardon."

Narcissa removed her knife from Harry's throat and he gladly took off his invisibility cloak. He saw her glance at the door that was open and cast a charm at the door, creating a bubble so they could talk freely without being heard. Harry turned back to face her as if nothing had happened, but quickly realized something.

"Mrs. Malfoy, you have a wand?"

Narcissa drew her lips together in a sort of pout, looking more royal than child-like with her chin high in the air. "Why yes. The only reason I have not escaped is because I am innocent."

Needless to say, when she said nothing else on that point, Harry was confused.

"Wouldn't you break out  _because_  you're innocent?"

"Exactly. I am innocent, and therefore there is no reason that I should act as if I'm trapped here. I did nothing wrong, and therefore I should in turn  _continue_ to do nothing wrong." She glanced at Harry. "And what makes you think that breaking me out of Azkaban and bringing me before the Minister would get me a pardon? Would he not just scowl and throw us both in a cell for your stupidity?"

Honestly, she had a great point, but he was ( _and he hated to play this_ card) Harry Potter, the boy who defeated Voldemort when he was seventeen; he figured waltzing into the Minister's office with an Azkaban prisoner should provide the Minister with enough evidence that she obviously did not belong there.

"No. The Minister is…understanding. There's no way he would put you back into Azkaban if I went through the trouble to get you out."

Harry had a horrible view of what exactly the cell looked like, as the night was becoming pitch black, but he felt a sort of filth as he had never felt before.

"And how, exactly, do you plan to get me out of here, that is, if I decide to go with you."

" _If?_  You don't want to get out of here?" Narcissa sighed. That was a complicated matter.

"It's not that I do not want to leave; I do. But would it be a smart decision to escape? If I do not receive a pardon, all your effort would be wasted, and I would most likely lose my stolen wand."

Even though she could probably not see, Harry rolled his eyes.

"You stole a wand but you're having doubts on escaping from Azkaban?"

"I'm tired of your criticism of my choice to attempt to remain well-behaved inside my cell." Her voice had grown quiet with each word sharpened to a point. "Why have you come here?" Narcissa was quickly losing her temper with the boy who had caused Draco so much trouble with his father.

Harry felt horribly beneath wherever Ms. Malfoy stood, even if the floor they stood on was even and flat.

"Well, it was actually Hermione. She suggested we get you out." Harry attempted to look her in the eyes directly, but found a large amount of darkness in his way. "Draco hasn't been faring so well by himself. I'm not sure if you know, but your husband has been beating him a lot lately."

It was as she had feared.

"He returned back to the manor? Why would he do such a thing?" Her pale face lost what little color it had left.

"I have no idea. I don't have the full story, I just know that there was a trial for Draco where Lucius used the Imperious Curse to try and get Draco sent to Azkaban. He ended up kidnapping him, but Draco had been back to the manor before that, so I don't think I know that part of the story. You'll have to ask Draco when we get you out of here."

Sparks started flying from Narcissa's stolen wand.

"That damned bastard…" she whispered, every consonant cutting right into Harry's ears. But as Harry guessed she would have, she agreed. "I will go, for Draco."

Harry nodded.

"Good. Now, just before sunrise, we'll have to leave and go down to the first floor. There will be a guard leaving to return to the Ministry on a ferry and we'll join him."

"How will we get past the barrier?"

Feeling rather worried for a moment, Harry asked, "What barrier?"

"There is a magical barrier around the entire island so that prisoners who try to escape can't leave. No prisoner has gotten out since the last breakout by the Dark Lord, meaning the barrier has never let a prisoner out."

"Well, is it just prisoners or can the guards not leave without having some method of stopping it."

Narcissa crept over to her small window. "I have seen guard after guard leave, but I think if they had a way of getting out, the prisoners would have found it and used it. It must only be for prisoners."

Harry thought a moment before replying, "What happens when a prisoner gets caught by the barrier?"

"An alarm goes off and the prisoner is knocked unconscious."

"Wonderful," Harry muttered. Together, they pondered what to do, letting the cell fall into silence.

In the next cell, the man began talking to himself once more. Narcissa was completely unaffected and continued to think of how she would get past the barrier so she could go back to her Draco, but Harry was listening to him intensely, trying to make sense of the muffled sounds as they faded in and out with the man's voice level.

"It's so simple! How could I not see before…needed was a giant butterfly, get on its back and fly on forever without a care in the world…and a cape for… and just a few…oh, brilliant!"

Suddenly aware that Harry was listening to the man, Narcissa explained. "He has gone insane. Many times he has tried to escape and he has failed every single time. His plans only get more unrealistic."

"I see…" He was disturbed, to say the least. He had always heard that people went insane in Azkaban, but he figured it had been because of the Dementors. And yet here he was, listening to a crazy man blabber on about plans to escape this prison that will never happen. Harry knew that there were things worse than death, and he thought that insanity was one of them.

The night went on and still they made no progress. Harry had eventually decided ( _to himself_ ) to just wing it and hope for the best; that's usually how he did things anyway, but Ms. Malfoy continued to think on, trying to reason something in her head.

_Well, what deciphers a prisoner from a regular person? The uniform? I'll transfigure it. The crimes committed? I am innocent. The level of insanity? If so, I may have a problem. But surely new prisoners have tried to escape and fail, too. There has to be a certain trick to the barrier._

When the black sky was just barley beginning to lighten, turning to a dark shade of blue once more, Narcissa voiced her suspicions.

"I have reason to believe that the barrier may have some way to distinguish between guards and prisoners, though I do not know what it may be."

Harry nodded, thinking there may be a way to get her out after all without making mistakes and blowing their only shot at getting off the island.

"Well, what does every prisoner do when they try to escape?"

"Well, they always are wearing their prisoner uniform; that may be it. They all have actually committed crimes. Always, they try some sort of way around it, shooting spells at it; using a wand to blast their way through the ground, that plan failed miserably. Once, a man shot a killing curse at it and it rebounded. He wasn't a very intelligent man. Then again, this  _is_  a prison…"

_Uniform, crimes, magic…_  Harry listed off in his head. He looked at Narcissa's stolen wand.

"Where, exactly, do they keep your wands when they take them?" Puzzled as to what relevance his question had, she narrowed her eyes.

"If I knew that, I may have my wand and not someone else's."

"Well…" he thought harder, so close to discovering something, but unable to exactly grasp what it was yet. "Has anyone ever gotten their wand?"

Narcissa looked rather annoyed.

"No. I don't even think it's on the island. What difference does it make what wand I have? As long as I can do magic, we may be able to get out of here."

"But, don't you think it's odd that you've had it for so long? You said you stole it," Harry was on a roll, getting closer to what little detail was nagging at him, "so wouldn't that mean that the guard would notice it was missing?"

"Well yes." Narcissa did not understand what he was talking about. He was just wasting time with this nonsense.

"So if the guard noticed it was missing and did nothing about it, he must have figured you would try to escape with it. That must be how the barrier knows. You said every prisoner has escaped trying to use a stolen wand, and that's why they all failed! You have to leave that wand."

Startled, mostly by the fact of how obvious it had been now that Harry had explained it and how she had not thought of it first, Narcissa blinked.

"Oh," she said simply. She looked the wand over and dropped it like it might have contained a filthy disease on it that she had not realized was there until just now. "But how will we get out if I cannot use a Disillusionment spell?"

Harry handed her his invisibility cloak. "You use my invisibility cloak and I'll use a Disillusionment spell." He turned toward the window and saw the first beams of sunlight peaking over the horizon. "Let's go."

He went to the door, replacing his shoe on his foot and walking out into the hall, Narcissa under the cloak right behind him. It took him a moment to realize, he could not do a Disillusionment spell on himself ( _he had an invisibility cloak that would never wear out, why would he need the spell?_ ). He turned awkwardly to Mrs. Malfoy.

"Could you, uh, put a Disillusionment spell on me?" Without question, Narcissa took his wand and smacked him on the head ( _possibly a bit too hard_ ) and Harry could feel the familiar sense of having an egg cracked on his head. Narcissa poked her hand out, offering it back to the now concealed Harry. He took it and then made his way to the stairs. They walked down nine flights of stairs, and Harry had the growing feeling in his gut that the guard was the kind who would wake at dawn, leaving them only so much time to get to the ferry before he left without them. On the last flight of steps, Harry could feel his feet becoming mutinous. He could feel each additional step add to a certain stiff pain in his shoes.

When they reached the bottom, Harry's instincts had been confirmed as the guard gave a goodbye salute to another and walked right out the door. They quickly fell into step behind him, keeping close so it wouldn't look odd that the door was open for too long after he had walked through it. Their feet had reached the rock of the island now, there quiet feet unheard by the stomping of the guard as they drew nearer and nearer to the barrier. Narcissa grew worried that she had accepted Harry's idea too quickly, no matter how convinced she had been back in her cell. It could have very well been the uniform, or maybe they even had some sort of magical tag on her that marked her as a prisoner and she would walk right into the barrier only to fall unconscious on the ground, letting down the Disillusionment charm she had cast on Harry and ruining everything all with one step.

She grew anxious as she realized she was three steps just before the barrier, and her heart stopped beating as she took another step…

…and another…

…and one more…

And she almost stopped, but continued on as she passed the barrier, letting the distance grow between her and the un-seeable shield.

All three got onto the ferry, not at all missing the prison that shrank from view until the thick mist finally covered it completely, shielding the prison from eyesight.

While Harry had figured they would make it off, Narcissa could not believe it when her feet walked off the ferry and onto solid ground back at the Ministry. At once, Harry grabber her hand and turned, forcing her into side-along apparition ( _which no one enjoyed_ ). Her feet touched ground and it took everything in her to not vomit up her food. When she had finished containing her nausea, she realized Harry was asking if she was alright.

"I'm fine," she looked at Harry and realized the Disillusionment spell had worn off, but then saw where exactly they had landed. The last time she had been here, she had regretted coming and distinctly remembered switching to the winning side somewhere after a chaotic search for her son. "Hogwarts? I thought we were going to beg the Minister for my pardon."

Shrugging, Harry stated simply, "I thought you'd want to see you son first."

At once, Hermione and Ron came running at him, not with smiles on their faces, but somber expressions.

"Harry! How could you just leave us there? We were supposed to do this together."

"Yeah, mate. Look, I know we were having a round-"

"We were  _not_  having a round. We were merely discussing certain matters of interest that concern Ron's jealousy."

"I'm not jealous. What in Merlin's pants gave you that idea?"

"You  _told_  me-"

"GUYS!" Harry yelled, silencing them at once. "Just stop arguing for two seconds. I've got Draco's mom. She's under the cloak. Let's just go and see him. I highly doubt he's asleep, anyway."

They nodded and made their way through Hogwarts to Harry's room.

"My son has a room in  _Gryffindor?_ " Harry stopped himself from laughing at the shock in her voice.

"No, it's mine, actually. Madame Pomfrey didn't want him to leave the school and go to wherever he lives now, so I let him stay in my room."

Hermione was the first to make it to the door, and knocked. When Draco opened the door, hair a mess and his grey eyes thoroughly bored looking, Hermione smiled and Ron jumped out from behind her and said, "Surprise!" when his mom took off the invisibility cloak.

Draco's mouth opened in shock. Narcissa smiled and enveloped her son in a hug.

"Draco, I'm sorry," she whispered in his ear.

Without really knowing whether or not he was just hallucinating from not sleeping for too long, Draco slowly wrapped his arms around his mother.

Hermione was the only one to see Draco's inner struggle to make sense of real and not, she said, "We went all the way to Azkaban to get her."

" _We?_ " Harry questioned behind her.

"Oh alright," she sighed, "it was just Harry. Ron and I were bickering and Harry went and got her himself."

Draco was speechless but thought to himself on how he had such a great boyfriend, which only brought back his thoughts before on how Harry could be cheating on Cygnus with Draco. Oh, he hoped that his life wouldn't get that messy.

"Okay, well," Harry said awkwardly. They seemed to be having a sort of tender moment and he felt as if he was spoiling it. "We'll just go, now. You can just stay in my room." He nodded and turned, Ron and Hermione just behind him, shutting the door.

Draco finally regained his power of making words with his vocal chords.

"Mother, how…why are you here?"

Narcissa smiled down at her son and squeezed his shoulders.

"I escaped Azkaban. Harry Potter is going to ask the Minister for a pardon of whatever crimes I've been inaccurately accused of committing. But most of all, I'm here for you. He told me only vague stories of what has been going on while I was away. Dear Draco, why of all things did you go back to the manor after being free from your father?"

Tears welled up in Draco's eyes.

"I thought you would be there. He never told me you had gone to Azkaban. I ran away after some time, had a new start, but he dragged me back and…and then he told me what he did. He took me to the Throne Room, and I was…" A rebellious drop fell down his cheek. "Mother, I missed you."

"I missed you too, Dragon." Narcissa and Draco held each other in the soft moment. "And I'll never let your father take you again, no matter what happens."


	19. Whispered Words

**Harry's POV:**

I was beginning to lose faith. The sun was so high and mighty in the sky, letting its rays fall so royally onto the grass before me and grandly announcing that it was daytime to the world. My heart hurt as I thought that the note I had left him had not even been touched. He had not come back yet. But he would come back. He had to. I loved him.

But why, then, was he still not here? Had something happened to him? Come to think of it, he didn't have a wand. There was no way for him to contact me in any way. He could be in trouble, or just stuck somewhere.

_But wait! He couldn't apparate without a wand!_  As far as I knew, Cygnus wasn't  _that_  talented. Not even I'm that talented. Not even the teachers at Hogwarts are that talented. Only Dumbledore, and Voldemort, and maybe a few Death Eaters were that talented.  _But then, if Cygnus didn't apparate away, what had happened to him?_  I could feel my chest hammering. I didn't even know how to find him, or where he went when he wasn't here. Come to think of it there were a lot of things that I didn't know about Cygnus. I had no idea who he had been, or who he was to society, or what his favorite color was. I only knew the Cygnus I had spent my days with. I was in a situation that was awfully familiar.  _I hadn't known a lot about Dumbledore, either. But, I found out about him from Aberforth, and he sort of told me some stuff himself when I was dead, or whatever._ And yet there was no one to fill me in about Cygnus if he wasn't here to tell me himself. Where was he?

If I was to find out, I needed to contact him. I would send a letter, but I didn't have an owl anymore, nor did I have a fireplace, or Floo Powder, or any idea where he was. The only means of communication I might have left to use would be a Patronus, and I didn't know how risky that would be, and he wouldn't be able to send one back unless he is in the position to borrow someone's wand. And even then, I had no idea what his Patronus looked like to make sure it was really him.

_But do I really have a choice?_

I sighed. It really didn't feel like I did. It was either wait here for someone who might not be able to come back, or send my Patronus and hope for the best. I pulled out my wand.  _A few days ago, spending time with Cygnus, not a care in the world…_  " _ **Expecto Patronum**_!" My very own stag burst from the tip, trotting away and disappearing into the earth to deliver my message. I had thought hard of what I wanted it to say.

_I don't know where you are, but I'm sorry._

* * *

**3** **rd** **Person POV:**

He had been so positively evil. It felt wrong in the best possible way. And never would they suspect anything until it was too late. Sometimes, he thought they underestimated him, by far.

_Really, it was a shame that even with the clever Ms. Granger there with them that none of the escapees had bothered to think that I would just let them waltz out of here without anything in their way._  But of course, he knew he was much smarter than that. He was Lucius Malfoy, and he would take his son back if he had to drag him back by the hair. And for some awful reason, he hoped he would.

An evil smile came to his face when he felt it at last. It was like a galloping horse, pounding in the direction of his filthy traitor of a son. Spreading through his whole body, it was as if he himself was being sent to Hogwarts to relay a message to him.  _It had been foolish of his little friend to think that he could bust my son out of this house._  And now he was sending a message to him while Lucius had cast a spell so he would know where Draco was just by following where his letters were being sent. Of course, this wasn't a letter. Oh no, it was a Patronus.  _The Potter boy's very own_. And now, Lucius was about to make his way to Draco, staying in a room near Gryffindor Tower.

Lucius turned and appeared again just before the entrance of Hogwarts, looking up at the enormous success of its reconstruction. He let his lips curve up into a smile, and walked right into the school.

The Patronus had finally arrived to Draco, who had been chatting with his mother until they had seen it.

"I don't know where you are, but I'm sorry," the stag had said. Immediately, Draco felt saddened.

"Draco, what on earth?"

He sighed. "Mother, I've been disguising myself. Hermione gave me this ring, and I become a different person when I wear it; Cygnus. Well, while I was wearing my ring one day, I met this boy, and we hit it off. Long story short, that boy turned out to be Harry Potter in disguise. And right after he confessed, Hermione pulled me away for that trial I told you about, where father took me. Harry has no idea that I'm Cygnus, so he must think Cygnus left because Harry lied to him. That's why he's apologizing." The stag melted away, leaving Draco staring at the spot it had been.

Narcissa smiled, happy for her son to have a life more than the torture ha had endured while with his father. "Why don't you tell him who you really are?" She stood from the edge of the bed. "Come. Let's go right now and tell him."

Draco smiled sadly at the ground. "I'd love to, mother, but it will take too long to get to where Harry is waiting. I wish we had wands."

At the mention of wands, Narcissa asked, "You don't have your wand?"

He shook his head. "No, father took it from me when I first returned home."

A certain wistfulness passed over the both of them as they both craved the ability to do magic once more without difficulty. And there was a knock at the door, raising their hopes that just maybe their wishes would come true.

"That must be Harry or Hermione," said Draco.

"Ah yes," Narcissa walked to the door, "for my trip to the Ministry. Do not worry, my dear Draco. We will have a wand soon enough." Narcissa opened the door.

"Well hello, Narcissa. How wonderful to see you. Did Azkaban treat you well?"

Narcissa's smile faded and she back away. "What are you doing here?"

Completely ignoring her question, Lucius went on. "I really hope you liked it there, because I have a feeling you'll be returning very soon."

"Only if it's for murder of my late husband," she spat, her eyes staring daggers.

Impervious to the death threat, Lucius chuckled. "Well, I am not here to have a reunion with you. I am here for my son."

Narcissa back up more and placed herself before Draco to shield him. "You are no father of his. You do not belong to the family anymore, you bloody bastard."

Lucius merely shook his head. "Where have your manners gone, Cissy? Surely they taught you to speak better than that to the prison guards. I doubt they are ones to enjoy insults."

"I wouldn't have been there in the first place if it hadn't been for you. They were about to find me innocent before you opened your mouth and whispered your words to the Wizengamot. How could you do that to your own wife?"

"How, you ask? Oh it was so simple, actually, but I'm afraid that is a story for later. Right now," Lucius made eyes contact with Draco just over Narcissa's shoulder, "I must be taking my son."

"He will never go anywhere with you."

Draco was frozen in place. He and his had nowhere to escape to, no one to save them, nothing to use in their defense. They had nothing, and his father had everything. Draco wept for his mother in front of him, knowing it couldn't be long before she would not be able to protect him anymore, or worse. He would much rather let his mother jump out the window behind them than to let his father do anything to her. At least if she jumped out the window, there was a chance that someone would see her and save her. With his father, he knew there was one way out, and he regretted ever being foolish enough to return to the manor, no matter how much he had wanted to see his mother, or how insane he had been; all of it was no excuse. He wished, for his mother's sake, that he had never been born.

Lucius held a hand out, still looking at Draco. "Come, Draco. Don't let your mother take your fall. It would be much wiser to give yourself now."

Feeling Draco take a step forward, Narcissa whispered back to him, "Draco, don't listen to him. The moment he does something to me, you run for your life. Get teachers, students, friends; anyone who will help. Do not give yourself for me."

"Oh come, now Draco. Surely you don't want your mother to suffer a fate worse than you have ever experienced. Or would you rather her have to suffer before I drag you from here?" Lucius's voice grew vicious. "I will take you from here, Draco, and if your mother must die, then so be it."

More tears fell from Draco's eyes as the words had been spoken. "No! I'll go! Just, don't hurt her!"

"Draco, no!"

All in an instant, Narcissa held back Draco, and Lucius cast a green curse across the room. The odd light added a sickly hue to the pale skin of Draco as it past right by his head, nearly missing him. He felt his mother tense and whisper just in his ear, "Draco, live." And then his mother's arms slackened their grip, and her body fell to the floor with a thud, motionless.

For a moment, both Lucius and Draco stared. Draco could not believe what had just happened.  _But mother had…but surely she was…how could the spell have…_  His heart seemed to stop dead in his chest. Lucius used his foot to nudge her arm, to see if she stirred, but she did not.

"She is dead," Lucius said simply. He then looked back to Draco holding out his hand. "You will come willingly, or suffer the same fate as your mother."

Draco continued to stare. "I'll go, just…" he kneeled next to his mother, lying helpless on the floor. He placed his forehead against hers, still warm, and whispered back to her, "I'm sorry, mother."

Tired of waiting, Lucius took Draco by the arm and pulled him to the door, and walking down the hall without mercy. Draco clumsily tried to stand back up, achieving success on his third attempt, and let his father drag him out of Hogwarts without any more fight left in him. He had let his mother die. And so he deserved to die. He had apologized to his mother for not being able to keep her last request. And even after his father had taken him back to the manor, walking the familiar halls that could only lead to one place, he apologized once more.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one. "I can't do it. I'm sorry."

* * *

**Narcissa's POV:**

I hadn't known how long I had been out for, but I awoke with a start, sitting up immediately on the floor in Harry Potter's room. I thanked Merlin for my emergency potion pill.

It is quite a long story as to why I have it, but I have always kept it for a moment like this, hidden underneath a fake tooth. Severus had always told me it would come in handy one day, though he had expected it would be a situation with Draco and the Dark Lord, not Lucius.

Once upon a time, I had a tooth knocked out during a "training session" with my sister, Bella. It had been on the Dark Lord's orders since I had not, he thought, provided enough encouragement to my son when he had many failed attempts to kill Dumbledore. I went to Severus, hoping he would fix it, and was instead offered a clever plan to get around death when a killing curse was tossed my way.

"I have this pill," he had said in his usual drab voice, "which contains Draught of Living Death. All you do when you need it, is to remove your tooth and chew the tablet. It will cause you to appear dead, though you are actually in a deep sleep. When you awaken, you will be able to save poor Draco from whatever torture the Dark Lord will be handing him. As I have promised, I will protect him, but if I am, for whatever reason, unavailable, you will be able to do so."

I agreed. And all this time later, it had finally come to my aid.

While the spell had missed me and almost hit Draco, I understood that if Lucius thought he had killed me, he would not think anyone would know that he took Draco. But now, I could help my son without Lucius suspecting anything.

I sprinted as fast as I could, trying to remember how exactly the school was laid out, but deciding it didn't matter who I talked to as long as I talked to someone. The first person who I happened to find was the headmistress, who was pacing just outside the hallway where the room was.

She seemed to be confused of my presence here. "Narcissa Malfoy? Why are you here?"

"I have no time to explain all of that. My son, Draco, is in trouble and I need as much help as I can get. Call every able wizard you know that is available, most importantly Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Without question, she nodded and pulled out her wand. From her wand, several cats came, all silvery and with spectacles around their eyes, leaping all to different directions. "Let us go to my office and wait for everyone's arrival. Meanwhile, you can explain to me exactly how Draco is in trouble."

We made our way, up to her office, and I explained everything. She took in everything, nodding. When we had finally arrived to her office, there were several people already there waiting for us, though we had not been that long. At my confused look, the headmistress explained.

"We had been expecting something to happen today, we just hadn't known what exactly to expect, nor when it would come."

Hermione Granger came forward and offered the remainder of the story, though her eyes were red and puffy. "See, Professor McGonagall had heard a prophecy about Harry and Draco. We found out that some sort of big event was to happen soon with Draco and Harry, but…oh poor Draco! What are we going to do? How did he even find him here?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

A familiar man stepped forward, his royal purple robes drawing a memory from my mind like blood. In his deep voice that had once sentenced me to Azkaban, he said, "We must find out once we have this settled." I felt a touch nervous as a part of my mind reminded me that I was an escaped criminal.

Another, who I could not see, called out, "Well why are we still waiting, then? Let's go save the weasel!"

"We can't, George!" Hermione Granger shouted. "We have to wait for Harry!"

A boy with flaming red hair stepped forward. "What is taking him so long, Mione? He'd usually be here by now."

"He's still waiting, Ron, but he has to come. He's just got to."

"If we must, we will go without him. If the situation is really serious, there is no time to waste."

"No! We have to wait for Harry! The prophecy!"

"Ms. Granger, the prophecy did not speak of when in the day it would happen. Harry can very well arrive later and no harm will be done. We  _must_  act now."

Through all the arguing, none other than Harry Potter came through the door, short of breath and wary. "I'm here!" he shouted, "Let's go!"

"Everyone join hands," and at Hermione Granger's command, everyone in the room had joined hands, me being between the Minister and Harry Potter. "Hold on tight."

She apparated everyone to the gates of Malfoy Manor. I walked forward without hesitation and the gates opened. Everyone followed me in, and we made our way to Draco.

* * *

**Draco's POV:**

My mind began to unravel with the pain. I could only make out a few things of what my father said, but it didn't matter anymore. I could sense feeling fading away. This was my end.

" _ **Crucio**_!"

Another wave of endless pain came my way. I could feel the blood seeping into my lungs, drowning me in my own blood. It was difficult to make clear thoughts anymore. Everything was a big blur of pain and hopelessness swirling and swirling with the blackness of the Throne Room as I slowly came closer and closer to where life stopped and horrible began.

"You don't deserve to be my son! You couldn't even save your own mother! You just let her die for you like a human shield. How disgraceful! You are no son of mine! You are nothing but a pest! Insolent, uncaring,  _ignorant_  filth!"

Invisible swords cut my skin, their blades burning everything it touched like fire, boiling my damaged body. I tried to inhale to keep myself alive, choking again and spitting up more and more blood, unable to stop.

"Do not dirty my floor with your  _traitorous blood,_  your  _dishonorable cells._  You make me sick! How can you live with yourself! Why do you not call death to your door, begging for mercy from your  _unworthy existence?_ "

My very own bones seemed to be attacking my body, radiating needle-like punctures into my limbs, rendering me motionless and unable to do nothing but scream and regurgitate blood.

"Look at you! Can't even hold down your lunch? Disgusting. You don't  _deserve_  to live. But look at my generosity; I have decided to spare you in return for your absolute promise that you will not be such a disgrace any longer. Of course, I must punish you for your misdeeds.  _ **Crucio!**_ "

I hadn't noticed that the spell had ended, nor that it had been cast at me again. All I knew was pain. This whole world was pain. But I was sick of this world.

Suddenly, all was quiet. My father tossed me across the room, and I heard the distinct crack of my bones beneath me and felt the flow of blood out of my body. More silence for what seemed like hours as I came closer to whatever fate was awaiting me. There was more screaming, and light flashed behind my eyelids, but I didn't dare open them. The ground below me quivered, and suddenly arms were around me.

"Draco, my sweet dragon, you promised me you would stay alive." My mother's sweet voice called to me. I figured Death awaited me, and slowly allowing me to go with him.

"I'm sorry, mother, but I'll be with you soon. I promise."

"Draco! Wake! You will not die!" Her voice was so close to me, but growing more and more distant as my body drained. My mouth would no longer form words. The cold floor beneath me started to soak into my skin and freeze my broken bones. "Draco!"

"Draco," another voice joined in. It was so sad sounding, I felt sorry that I was leaving so soon. "Draco, you have to open your eyes." A few drops fell onto a cut on my shoulder. "Open your eyes! I know you're alive. Please…" The voice made another part of me hurt. It was Hermione, but surely she wasn't dead. She must be my imagination. But still, her voice cut into my guilt and made it grow. "Open your eyes," she whispered.

With much effort, and some time, I finally willed my eyes to open, and I was surrounded. My mother was holding me, and Hermione was to her side, tears sliding down her eyes when I saw her.

"Oh, Draco, I was too late. I am sorry I was not faster to get here with help," my mother said, her voice somber as well.

And to her other side stood the love of my life, looking down at me with concern. "Well," he said in the voice I had fallen for so long ago, "let's take him to St. Mungo's. We have to hurry."

I stared into his bright green eyes, so beautiful, though he would never understand how much. With the last bit of my effort, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my ring, holding it up with a shaking hand to him. He looked confused, but took it, understanding growing on his face.

"No longer!" my father screamed to my other side, held by several men trying to restrain him without their wands. My father's own wand found its way out of the swirling limbs and pointed its tip straight at me. And I saw what was coming before it even came.

" _ **Avada Kedavra**_!"

"I love you," I whispered to Harry. And the world faded.


	20. Taken

**3** **rd**   **Person POV:**

Many tears had been shed, more than Draco would have expected. He was always one who found it hard to believe that people cared for him when they had not particularly been so fond of him. The public saw it as a sad story, and no one, they felt, should ever have to endure that. They called him "strong-willed" and "so motivated to live out life," but they didn't know him that well. His real friends knew how he was losing his grip, and how he had tried not to cry. The ones who knew him best of all, only two, shed more than tears for dear Draco. Their hearts, they told people, felt broken, as if a large part of life had been removed from them; as if their own limbs had been ripped off from their bodies and forced to bleed out all their love to him; as if their entire world had fallen apart. But most of all, they cried because people were watching.

Narcissa Malfoy had been interviewing with the Daily Prophet when she had shared her story. "The world has to know," she said, "about the story of my dear son, and stop such a thing from ever happening again."

And when Rita Skeeter handed her a tissue and thanked her for her time, Narcissa used the tissue to dab away the water falling in drops from her eyes. The moment Rita closed the door, she sighed and looked back over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were sitting on the other side of the room, trying with all their might to pass their tears of laughter off as tears of grief, the least successful being Ron.

"And when you said that he had sought to befriend everyone he met, I almost lost it." Ron doubled over in his laughter.

Hermione smacked Ron, but was trying to hide her own chuckles. "Ron! Draco's not  _that_  bad! I mean," she looked to Narcissa, who's eyes were very much dry now with a smile showing up as well, "you  _did_  go a little overboard with his will, and how everyone will miss him."

Narcissa shrugged. "Well, I had to make it believable."

"Is it really so hard to stay serious for my obituary?" said a voice from nowhere, "Honestly…I hope you all aren't this happy at my funeral. People may start to think  _you've_  lost your marbles."

Harry smiled and pulled the invisibility cloak off Draco. Draco immediately went to fix his hair, feeling that the cloak had messed it up.

"I can't lie, the funeral is going to be the hardest." Harry turned to Mrs. Malfoy. "You couldn't have said a story that doesn't sound so absurd when your son is in the room, alive?"

"No," she smiled. "My poor son Draco, may he rest in peace, needs only the best for his obituary."

Draco rolled his eyes with a grin. "Alright, alright. Quit speaking about me like I'm dead."

"Oh, but you  _are_  dead, Draco." Hermione smiled.

"Only to the public!"

They all shared in a laugh.

_Within the coming days it shall occur…_ The prophecy went.  _On the anniversary of a secret only the two themselves know, a living force abandoned by the young heir rises… The orphaned one knows this force well as it returns to him at last…strength too large to deny envelops around an enmity. Upon their bodies they bare marks of separate paths…yet their future intertwined indefinitely…their bodies…marked by separate paths…_

And it had come true. The force had risen, and spared Draco his life when the dreaded moment had come. As Dumbledore ( _or rather, his portrait_ ) had explained to them, Harry had died for all of Hogwarts and his students over a year ago, Draco being one of them. And when Harry had realized that Draco had been the person he had fallen in love with, the magical force had doubled, and reflected back at its caster. While many tears were shed for Draco, the same cannot be said for Lucius.

The day went on as morning faded to day, and day to night, and the group found themselves tired.

"I'll see ya later, mate."

"Bye, Harry!"

"We have had a wonderful time. Come, Draco."

Harry bid them all farewell and sat quietly in his room, staring about until the sun had finished setting. His legs stood, and carried him out the door, out the hall, down the staircase, through the empty Great Hall, and across the entrance until he found himself looking at the edge of Hogwarts grounds. He stepped across the invisible border and turned on the spot with a crack and a whirl of colors.

His feet touched ground again, but finding soft grass instead of hard stone. A smile, natural as anything around him, came to his face as he heard a voice in the distance. He guessed where the voice was coming from, and followed his ears over to a giant hole in the ground covered a bit with grass. He climbed through it, and followed the now lighted path to the lake. As he came closer, he began to make out words.

"I don't know, Paisley. Usually I would try and touch it, but what if it really is glass? Then what do I do?"

Harry stepped out into the moonlight, past the edge of the forest, and sat next to a boy now with bright blue eyes and black hair. The boy looked at him and smiled, taking off his ring and changing back into his normal self, with grey eyes and pale hair.

"You didn't hear that, did you?"

Harry shrugged with a grin. "Well, I might have."

Draco nodded, a bit embarrassed. "Of course you did…" The voices of the doctors at St. Mungo's rang through his head.  _We've seen some serious things like this before with the Crustaceous Curse. He may be a bit mentally unstable from so much pain, but he isn't completely gone…_ completely _gone…_

As if reading his thoughts, Harry put an arm around Draco and said, "I don't care if you think you're crazy. I think you're perfect, and only I can have you."

They looked into each other's eyes, grey and green and red and grey again. The marbles didn't lie. And neither did prophecies.

In the moonlight, their lips met tenderly, thanking the world for the time they had, for many times there had been question as to if they would ever get to this point. The water beside them glittered, and the night was perfect. Together, they enjoyed that their new life would be free.

Their bare skin touched, and ecstasy filled the air with heat. Draco gasped for air and whispered into Harry's ear.

"Take me. I'm yours."

Back at the Burrow, Hermione was cleaning up around her room. She just hated sleeping in a dirty room at night, and Mrs. Weasley was thrilled that there was another girl in the house who hated messy rooms. She rummaged through all her papers, finding one folded up. She hardly ever folded up papers, and found it curious. She couldn't remember what it was, and so she opened it up.

_Objective: Get Harry and Draco together_

_Plan:_  
_convince the other_  
force them to date  
_disguise them and then have them date  
_ _love potion_

_What to use for disguises:_ _  
rings_ _rings  
__socks_  
shoes

_Ring 1 for Draco, ring 2 for Harry_

She read the last part over. "Bloody hell…" she said under her breath.

She had given them the wrong rings. Ring 1 was made of wood, meant for Draco with gold and with a grey stone so they wouldn't match his other rings. It had said, "The one and the only," which was supposed to be a reference to his family, since he was a Malfoy and the only heir, and that was what he hated most about himself. Ring 2 was made of copper, meant for Harry, turning silver with a black and a green stone. Inscribed on it had been, "To be or not to be," to make Harry question if he really wanted to be famous or not, since he had been asking himself that question for years. She had gotten them mixed up, and now there was no lesson absorbed by the boys. In the shallow end, she had been successful, but with the deep stuff…she had failed.

"Well," she said to herself with a sigh, "what's done is done." She tossed the paper into the pile of trash she had started, and continued on with her cleaning, feeling no remorse for her mistake, as life had gone ahead and taught the boys their own lessons.

After a long week or two, the Minister sat behind his desk still, rubbing his forehead. His secretary was growing worried for him, since he was falling behind on work and not leaving until late into the night. She stepped into his office quietly.

"Minister, has something been bothering you?"

Kingsley looked up and nodded slowly. "I have reason to believe I am not as cut out for this job as once thought. I much prefer to be involved with whatever is going on, not just handling the paperwork for it."

"Minister, why not just hire an assistant to take care of that for you?"

"That is a good idea," he said, "but who would I hire? I can't even find a replacement for an Auror, and that was once a sought after position."

Sheepishly, she offered, "I would do your paperwork for you. I have loads of time on my hands, just sitting at my desk all day." She looked to the Minister. "And you could offer Harry Potter the Auror position. If you've noticed, he has a liking for combating dark magic."

"Of course," the Minister said. "Yes, Harry Potter would be a wonderful Auror. I'll offer him the job tomorrow morning," he said. "For now," he stood, "I believe it is time to rest." His secretary nodded and scurried away, happy to help. The Minister took one more look at the last paper on his desk, the last paper he would ever look at if his secretary was honest in her offer to become his assistant. He had read it a few times over, wondering to himself how he had ever let something like this happen, almost twice. He sighed, and decided he may need some lessons in character from Harry Potter himself, as he was not only famously known for defeating the Dark Lord, but also being able to resist the Imperious Curse. He waved his wand, and a large stamp appeared, to which he pressed hard against the paper right under the title to that read:

_Azkaban sentence for Narcissa Malfoy  
PARDONED_

The Minister smiled, happy that in the end, everything worked out for the better. And all thanks to a brave and good-hearted, soon-to-be-Auror.

Basking in the moonlight, Harry and Draco were fast asleep, bare in each other's arms, feeling the happiest they had ever felt. They might have never known it before, or even now, but love had saved them, and love would continue every day to save them.

They slept on, unconsciously knowing this to be true.


	21. Epilogue

The sun blazed above their heads, brightening the world and revealing its dazzling colors. This day was gorgeous in every way possible; a rare delicacy in England. It was so completely impossible to be unhappy, though there was no one to prove otherwise. Beautiful white daisies had sprung up over the years around the field without the help of any magic, protecting its grasses, and its inhabitance, with a shield of innocence and wonder.

Draco looked out onto the field, taking in the fresh scent of flowers he loved so much. The daisies went on forever into the horizon, spreading their message with them. A bright white smile appeared on his face as he remembered something. He pulled out his pocket and stared at the large marbles in his hand.

"Your marbles," Harry said simply. "You haven't lost them after all."

His smile only grew bigger, then faded as he explained their history. "There used to be seven small marbles; three green ones, two black ones, a grey one, and a red one. They were given to me by the Dark Lord. He had told me what everything represented; the green was my family, the black our loyalty to him as Death Eaters, grey was him, and red…was blood spilt, I suppose. I never much was fond of these marbles because of that, though I did use them to train my magic further without a wand. More recently, I was flipping them around in the air, and they changed. You saw them, then; a green ring, a black ring, and a large grey one with speckled red. I'm not really sure how it happened the first time, or the next time when they merged to look like this, but I've managed to come up with new representations for them."

Harry smiled and picked up the green one. "What's this one?"

"It's you." Draco grinned. "And the grey inside it, that's part of me. But the rest of me, is right here," he shook the other marble. "And inside it, there's red."

Face growing confused, Harry said to Draco, "Actually…it's green inside."

"What?" Draco looked to the marble and saw that the red had, in fact, turned green.  _Way to make me feel like an idiot, marble representation of me…_

"Oh. Right. Well, the green is a part of you, inside me, then."

There was a mutual silence as they enjoyed the view around them as much as each other's presence.

"Brilliant," Harry whispered. "Simply, brilliant."

With an idea rushing to his head, Draco stood and grabbed for Harry's hand. "Come on. Just because it's been a few years since we've ran around here doesn't mean we can't still pretend we're still reckless, free teenagers."

With a chuckle, Harry took his hand. "Oh come off it. We're only in our twenties. We were only just teenagers."

" _Late_  twenties. Or have you stopped counting? It'll be fun, I promise."

"Well of course it will be fun."

They held each other's hands and swayed to an imaginary beat inside their heads, and Draco started singing.

"Imagine there's no heaven. It's easy if you try. No hell below us. Above us only sky."

Harry joined in with his deep, vibratious base, that always had the ability to make Draco's heart leap in an instant. "Imagine all the people, living for today."

"Imagine there's no countries. It isn't hard to do. Nothing to kill, or die for. And no religion, too."

Harry pulled Draco and they spun around in circles, still singing their hearts out. Their voices meshed perfectly as one heavenly sound.

"Imagine all the people, living life in peace. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world will be as one."

With no cares in the world, at least for the moment, the two circled around the field, ankle-deep in grass and daisies, releasing their wish to the world.

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world…"

Harry stopped and Draco circled right into his arms. They held each other there, taking in their everything with their eyes. Bright, shining emerald and pale, liquid silver, forever locked in the world that was theirs, and only theirs. In this perfect moment, their lips met, passionate and loving.

_And the world will live as one._

Inside their own world, their love bloomed, free from all things that had once imprisoned it. No one could have guessed that so many years could be fixed in a few days, but they had. Their will was strong, and their future together was bright. Like the many stars in the sky, they had traveled a long way to reach their destination, and the journey would not be in vain.

Forever and on, they would be free.


End file.
